


One Night Too Late

by CharmiaArkenstone



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Peter Pan & Related Fandoms
Genre: Artwork Commissioned, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Dubious Morality, Explicit Sexual Content, Fear Play, Human/Vampire Relationship, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Threesome - F/M/M, Vampire!Felix, Vampire!Killian, Vampire!Peter, Vampire!Tink, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-04-03 18:58:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14002491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharmiaArkenstone/pseuds/CharmiaArkenstone
Summary: “I know that a great many humans find it highly pleasurable, dare I say addictive,” Peter took hold of her hand and invisible threads pulled at her until she was looking into that perfect face. His eyes burned, intense, hungry.“I can show you, if you like...”True Blood!AU, inspired by the brilliant rory_the_dragon. Please R&R!





	1. Butterfly Masks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello to all!  
> This story contains the same original character as my other OUAT fanfiction (which is called 'Sabre' if you'd like to read that too) but the two aren't connected. The OUAT characters and True Blood parallels do not belong to me, only original characters and plotlines.  
> There will be some very dark and sensitive material so do be careful and considerate. Hope you enjoy!

_I'm a whisper lost upon wind_  
_I'm the ember that'll burn you down_  
_I'm the water that'll drown you_  
_I'm a star that's just a black hole now_  
_I'm a terrifying danger_  
_I'm a fruit decaying on the ground_  
_I'm a swallower of anger_  
_I'm the tree that falls that makes no sound_  
_I make no sound_

_~_

_I am fungus in the forest_  
_I'm a lizard with a poisoned tongue_  
_I'm the child in the manger_  
_I'm the one who sacrificed his son_  
_Rust is showing on my armor_  
_I am lazing like an old man done_  
_I'm a product of my anger_  
_I'm the bullet in a loaded gun_

 _Nobody Praying for Me,_ Seether

 

Another chilly draft whistled through the barn’s old, tatty walls that had been in need of a paint job for several years. Juvenile music and excited chatter echoed back out into the darkening day. The sun had set not long ago, meaning it was less than an hour until a swarm of parents came to the rescue, much to the relief of those in charge of hosting. The procession of presents, games, cake and then more games had been an enjoyable but tiring one.

So when an early knock came to the door, the hostess was more than happy to answer with a quick step. A thankful smile was lighting her face good naturedly as she pulled open the slightly wonky door, sure that she could guess which fellow parent had come early.

The smile froze before it was pulled down with confused shock, and fear. Standing before her were several young strangers, all beautiful, all ethereal. The mother, bewildered, drew back, her mouth made dry by the inhuman eyes that gleamed hungrily. “C-Can I help you?”

The clear leader among them stood tall and strong-looking, his rich brown hair mixed with russet and auburn, his eyes like depthless ponds of liquid emerald. Her mouth ran dry in the space of a second, the pace of her heart quickening. Before settling to have a family, she had travelled to a great many places around the world and thought she had seen a great many things. But she had seen nothing like him, or the others that stood with him.

“Yes, you can, actually,” the emerald eyed man spoke, his voice a sultry purr with a hypnotic quality. His soft, ethereal face suddenly turned harsh, his face briefly scrunching as his mouth opened and two fangs with a fatal promise dropped besides his front teeth. “See, we’re new to the area and we’re rather…hungry. No hard feelings.”

The woman had no time to scream before he had snapped her neck to the side and sunk his fangs into her throat. His companions moved past him in a blur, not in a hurry as there would be at least three bodies to go around for each of them. The whole barn erupted with high pitched screeches of terror and the tearing of flesh. The scent of fresh blood filled the air, and as his victim whimpered, now in his arms as she could no longer support her own weight, he felt arousal awaken his body. He lowered himself into a kneeling position, the body of the mother draped limply over him, his hand cupping her backside so he could rock her into his hips and stimulate his stiffening member, the faint sound of her moans in his ear. He didn’t know if he preferred that or the screaming.

The mother’s body was soon little more than a husk and he tossed her aside like an old bone. Barely a moment later, those emerald eyes fell on a young girl with a ‘ _Birthday Girl_ ’ sticker on her blouse huddled in a corner with some of the other children. He bared his bloodied teeth in a malicious grin. His muscles whirred as he lunged for his next morsel, the inhuman speed of his movements leaving her on her back with him crouching over her tiny body, the other children fleeing with only concerns for themselves. Previously it had been him alone keeping the exit barred but now his progeny covered the escape route, keeping their food trapped in.

Gathering the ‘birthday girl’ into his arms, he brushed her strawberry blonde hair from her blood-drained face. “My name’s Peter,” he purred silkily, “What’s your name, little girl?”

The reply was a whimper followed by the girl breaking down into tears.

Peter pouted with convincing sympathy, “Oh, tsk, tsk, there now. Why won’t you tell me your name? You don’t want to make me unhappy, do you? I’m already quite sad, I tend to make things hurt more when I’m unhappy.”

“A-Amy,” she snivelled.

“There’s a good girl. Well, happy birthday, Amy,” Peter crooned, the grip of his arms tightening to the point of pain. He brought his face close to hers, “I don’t mind if you scream,” before sinking his fangs into her tender throat.

* * *

Sabryna lived alone in Storybrooke, and often considered herself to be the last one of the Sura family even if she knew, intellectually, that she wasn’t. Like those who stayed home in wartime, she lived in ambivalence, unsure if her kin would come home or not, and it was simpler to continue with the latter.

At the tender age of fourteen, her parents had been killed in what had been written off as a tragic accident. Naturally, she’d been taken in by her mother’s elder sister, Camilla, who had planted her roots in Storybrooke since before Sabryna’s birth, and protected the girl from as much she could for the next three years.

The last three years of her life, and everything since had gone quiet.

It had been almost four years since vampires had made their existence known to the world. They had emerged seeking rights with such human smiles and the promise to live harmoniously alongside humankind now that ‘Tru Blood’ had been perfected, able to sustain their needs. Neither a fang nor bloodstain in sight. 

Sabryna, among a perfectly respectable number, had seen every reason to support the ‘Vampire Rights Movement’ and found herself defending their name to those she considered to be less open minded – incidentally,  the same kind of people who had judged and scorned her for the mental illness she lived with. Her wishful naivety, as it turned out to be, had been shattered with the night of Camilla’s murder, the rock with which she stood upon to keep her head above the water had crumbled into nothing other than a memory.

It had been lieutenant Killian Jones who had found the girl, only seventeen, after hearing the hopeless wails. The usually pristine kitchen floor, where he and many other members of their little community had shared hot drinks and warmer words over the years – it was where the two first met – was drowned under dark blood. Skin was tainted, clothes irreparably stained. Tears diluting the red sea where no life could breathe.

Sabryna could remember so vividly the heaving her chest, the rawness in her throat that proved futile in the way of her grief, and the way Killian had lifted her into his arms as though she were no more than a child, taking her from a house she would never set foot in again.

When next she woke, Sabryna was left alone in the world.

The revelation of vampires gave truth to so many unsolved cases, like murders made to look like tragic accidents, to make a clueless baby vampire’s unfinished kill look like a crime of passion.  

It appeared that vampires had taken far more than anyone realised, and the realisation was enough to shatter the fragile state of Sabryna’s undiagnosed illness. Frequent counselling with Dr Hopper and the close, protective watch of Killian Jones hadn’t been enough to keep from the strings of the girl’s mind fraying until they snapped.

At eighteen, after a hazy interlude of eight months, away from Storybrooke, Sabryna was prepared to defend the people of her town from the monsters who sought to inflict similar fates. To do almost anything.

She did not believe for a moment that all vampires were the same, but her eyes had opened to the reality they were as different from each other as humans were; that some were little more than cruel, sadistic beasts, and innocent people needed to be protected. At all costs.

Crimes amongst the human population of Storybrooke had practically dwindled into nothing over the following few years. They had quickly realised that their only means of safety and survival were to stick together. Sleepy towns like Storybrooke were prime hunting grounds. Easy targets.

Perhaps it was a sorry state of affairs that such was the case that brought humanity together in a way unique.

The small police force of Storybrooke had transformed, in part, into a band of vampire hunters, playing rather loosely with the term – for violence against vampires was never sought but, realistically, often anticipated. The floating dubbed name of Van Helsing didn’t do much to help.

As the Sheriff, Emma Swan naturally took charge of the operation, with Killian Jones and, later, Sabryna as her lieutenants. She had chosen Sabryna, despite her young age and damaged health, for her quick competence and zealous desire to protect Storybrooke’s citizens. David and Mary-Margret Nolan, both long-standing members of the department, had tried to dissuade the sheriff of her decision. It had become a little irritating but Sabryna held nothing against them. They were the salt of the earth and she knew they were only thinking of her best interest.

Killian, however, had no qualms about having such a young partner. The two shared a light-hearted yet bone deep companionship, one that had taken its roots the night he’d rescued her, and she loved the way he never doubted her, needed it.

The Theban Sacred Band, that’s what they were.

People sometimes made jokes about them raiding each other’s wardrobes or purposefully coordinating their outfits when it became clear that they both had a taste for dark colours and leather jackets.

By night, Sabryna patrolled the town with a handgun loaded with silver bullets or was based at the police station, ready to come running if any calls came in.

By day, her life was much simpler. She was a part time waitress at Granny’s Diner, a job she’d held down for three years, her academic pursuits only continued in private. That had been where she’d grown close to Henry Mills, born to a teenaged Emma and adopted by Regina, the town’s mayor. She was his elder by about a year but their mutual youth had brought them rather close together. In their own ways, they were equally outsiders. He knew her secrets; she knew his.

Lifetime in the day was harder but any triumph, however great or small, told her she was – she _could_ – get better, be better. Ordinary in her own extraordinary way.

She could count the things that were easy for her on her fingers, and thriving in what could become a battleground once the sun had gone was one of them. No number of saved lives, avoided deaths, could unhinge the truth. Her execution in the field told her that the sickness was too deep to be uprooted. It would be in her grave with her, if it wasn’t the thing to put her there. 

* * *

 It was a typical evening in Storybrooke, or as typical as it could get. Sabryna had that particular night off so offered to stay for the late shift and help Henry out at Granny’s. Anything to avoid being alone. She needed noise, distraction. A picturesque view of normalcy.

A large smile broadened her mouth as she brought one family their evening meal. “Just give me a shout if you need anything,” she said with a bright smile and even brighter eyes before retreating to the bar to mind it for a while, keeping an eye out for anyone who might need her assistance. For now, everyone was happy, eating and talking amongst themselves, and Sabryna found it soothing enough just to watch. “Want me to make you a quick drink?” she offered to Henry as he moved past the bar, a large tray balanced on his upturned hand and left shoulder.

“Nothing too strong,” Henry replied with the hint of a grin, “You know my mom would kill me, both of them.”

Grinning outright, she poured him a glass of fresh orange juice with a dash of their best vodka. Nothing like a little alcohol to ease the mind, and no one needed it better than Henry. Neither Emma nor Regina would be too pleased at their under-aged son drinking but Sabryna knew full well that his words had been code for the benefit of the people in the diner.

No one who’d been entrusted with Henry’s secret knew how or why, but the boy could hear the thoughts of others. As far as she was aware, only his mothers, father, and Mr Gold knew of his wondrous ability, besides her. And she was well aware that Henry sometimes had trouble in keeping the voices out of his head.

“Get this down you,” she said in her accented voice, handing the weak cocktail to Henry. “How are you managing?”

“Not too bad,” he replied after taking a large sip. “Is Killian coming in tonight?”

“At some point. I promised him a free daiquiri. Saved my arse the other night,” she said, eyes flickering for the nth time to the door.

Henry didn’t need to ask to know it had certainly been a run in with rogue vampires. Like her, he had nothing against vampires in general and the campaign for their rights but was intelligent enough to understand that there were those that were nothing but a threat. “What happened?”

“The usual, I suppose,” she shrugged lightly, desensitised; “Vampire looking for an easy feed. I got to him first and put in a silver bullet as a warning but it didn’t do much to persuade him to fuck off. But it turned out there were two of them and the other tried to make a meal of me. Seemed like he just wanted to find food for his progeny. It’s a shame, they were only young.”

Henry opened his mouth to reply when the hanging doorbell chimed, signalling the arrival of a new customer.

“I’ll take this one. You take a break,” she said before he could move or get a sound out. Sweeping around the bar, Sabryna went to greet the couple, bright and bubbly. It was almost as good as the real deal. “Hi there, table for two?” It was a needless question but part of the etiquette, something she was meticulously aware of.  She walked them to a secluded booth, perfect for a romantic, cosy meal before fetching menus for them. “Can I start you off with some drinks?”

Henry had already downed his drink by the time she’d finished taking the orders and making a little chat with the couple. He watched her flutter around the diner like a dazzling butterfly, taking orders and carrying drinks and dishes, all the while making polite conversation with that cheery smile and those twinkling eyes. There was something almost therapeutic in Henry’s eyes about just watching her practically dance around the diner, and before he knew it silence had settled in his mind.

The bell hanging above the door chimed, and Sabryna nearly felt guilty at how much she’d been hoping it was Killian when it was Belle who walked in instead. She shouldn’t have been surprised though; the blue-eyed brunette always arrived around that time to pick up dinner for herself and Mr Gold – Sabryna was sure someone had told her his first name before, but nonetheless, everyone always called him that.

“Hey,” a real smile bled through and lit up her entire face as she came back round to the bar. “Henry, Belle’s here,” she called over to the boy to have him get the regular order that came in almost every time that day of the week.

“Hey, been busy tonight?” Belle asked cheerfully, taking the stool right opposite with a sweeping glance through the diner.

“Not too bad,” the other shrugged, mouth still elevated. “Want a drink while you’re here?”

“Nah, I’m all right, thank you. Oh, I remembered to bring _Rebecca_ for you,” Belle reached into her tanned shoulder bag. “How many times have you read this?” she asked as she handed the book over.”

“At least four times. It’s scary how much I relate to Mrs de Winter. I hate not knowing her name,” Sabryna said, looking over the cover with affectionate, delicate hands.

“And you wouldn’t feel right in making a name up,” Belle added knowingly and her lips curved in the way Sabryna just loved, “I’ve only read it once but I did always wonder why she was never named.”

Opening the cover and flicking through the pages, though not properly reading, Sabryna replied with another shrug, “I think perhaps she doesn’t feel like she’s worthy; like, she always feels like she’s in Rebecca’s shadow and never thinks highly of herself, and sees herself as more of a conduit between the reader and the story so doesn’t think she needs her name. She could be any one of us.”

Belle grinned, pale eyes twinkling, “I’ll definitely have to read it again. I think we have more copies in the library. Did you _ever_ finish that _Queens Consort_ book?”

Tilting her head to the side in sheepish guilt, Sabryna stifled a small laugh, “I got stuck on Joanna of Navarre. But I will finish it! I just got distracted by Mary Beard’s book on Pompeii… and then by Stephen Fry’s new book on Greek myths – you really need to read that. Believe me, no one can retell Greek myths like that man.”

Belle laughed, “Given the near constant presence of _QI_ on your Netflix, I can tell you’re pretty wholesomely devoted.”

“Trust me – half the time I tell you a _fascinating_ fact, it’s because I’ve heard it on _QI_ first. And I can’t tell you how embarrassingly happy I get when I already know something they talk about.”

Henry joined them with Belle’s usual order, the bag deliciously warm. “I know, you yell at the TV. Here you go,” he handed the bag over the counter. “Say hi to Mr Gold for me.”

“Will do, Henry,” she said with a thankful smile, turning to leave. “And Sabryna, how long have you been saying that you’ll finished _Queens Consort_?”

“Only about… a _year_ ,” Sabryna grinned widely and, rarely, cheekily. It felt good on her face. “But I will!” she called after the librarian, and all too quickly sunk low once the bell had chimed again and the door had closed. Now without her smile, she sighed deeply, searching for one to wear like an accessory in its place.

Things were all relatively quiet when Killian got to the diner. Sabryna was at the bar again, and she managed a smile behind the mask when she saw him with much of her ration of energy spent for the night, and started to make the daiquiri she owed him. “About time,” she quipped. A weariness was set on his face, however she knew not to be concerned. She knew the difference between tired and roughed up from a vampire encounter well enough, prompting the question, “No trouble tonight then?”

Killian sat opposite her, running a hand through his hair before resting both forearms on the bar. “Not quite.”

“Go on?” she prompted, setting his drink down on a little napkin before subconsciously mirroring his stance.

“Well, I ran into a vampire – one of the friendlies – claimed they were checking out the area in case they wanted to come and live here. Quiet life type.”

“How’s that trouble? I honestly wish more vampires came here to settle.”

“She told me a new nest of vampires has moved close-by – only a few of them – and that one of them has set up this kind of vampire bar, called Neverland, I think it was, or something like that,” he finished explaining with a shrug, and took a generous sip of his drink, ebony hair ruggedly sloping over his forehead.

‘Nest’ was a word that Sabryna never liked to hear. Vampires grew more brutal and dangerous when they accumulated into nests; they were usually the kinds that liked to prey on unwilling victims and leave only carnage in their wake. “A club? Like a base? So they can hit us again and again from close range,” she said, features sharpening as she tensed through the shoulders and jaw.

“I suppose it’s possible,” the older lieutenant shrugged, knowing the razor-sharp adrenaline would be long overdue. “But for all we know they just want to run a business and live quietly. Just something else to keep an eye on. Can’t be too careful these days.”

“Should we check it out ourselves at some point? Might give us a better idea of what we’re dealing with,” she suggested, sneakily popping an olive into her mouth. “Better safe than sorry, then dead.”

Killian took another sip, “We could do, I suppose. Just don’t go in on your own, Duchess.”

Sabryna gave an almost sarcastic quirk of her eyebrows and glanced away, barely able to hold back the bonny smile.

With the diner rather quiet and not too far from closing time, Granny plated up dinner for her and Henry, the trusted infantry – a chicken fillet burger with chips and salad for Henry and a plate of spaghetti carbonara for her – and let them eat at the bar. Killian offered to give them both a lift home, knowing that Regina, and Emma too, would have his head on a platter if something happened to Henry because he was walking home alone at night. He knew Sabryna would have a better chance of protecting herself but still didn’t like the thought of her being out in the dark by herself.

No one was particularly keen on that idea anymore. Night-time strolls, once a regular pastime, were a new method of signing one’s own death warrant.

“Don’t you use a spoon?” Henry observed as they ate, and across the bar Killian grinned to himself.

“You’re not meant to use a spoon with spaghetti, forks only,” Sabryna informed him, mouth half full and head lowered slightly to her plate. “And it’s normal keep your head down like this to stop splashing. Stains are a real bitch.”

“How many times are you going to suggest taking me to Rome?” Henry said, catching the tail-end of her train of thought.

Sabryna swallowed her mouthful, licking her lips; “Until you let me take you.”

Once they’d finished their meals, the two young waiters helped Granny to close up the diner while Killian waited patiently by the door. Sabryna didn’t have the energy to keep up the pleasant conversation during the journey home that she’d mastered over continuous shifts, silently dreading seeing her flat as Killian drove around a corner onto her street. After saying her goodbyes, she trudged up the stairs to her second-story flat. One bedroom, one bathroom, joined living room, dining area and kitchen, it was nothing to boast about, but it was enough for her to manage. Stony-faced, the long day began to set in on her muscles, leaving them heavy and aching. Having the mask on for so long meant it was harder to pull off. She slung her things on the sofa before prowling into the bathroom and flicking on the light.

The taps on the bath were a little stiff when she turned them and the gushing water was a welcome antidote to the silence. While the tub filled, she poured in some bubble bath and then went to face herself in the mirror, which had a little crack in the top right corner. The bright summery exterior had melted away the minute she’d turned her back on Killian and Henry, probably as they knew it would, and the eyes looking back at her were depthless and void. Sabryna didn’t like the person she was looking at. Pulling her clothes off, she left them in a messy pile on the floor and sank into the bath. Besides the head of the tub was a small side table and on it was the book she was currently reading and her iPod. She switched it on as quickly as possible.

 _Border line_  
_Dead inside_  
_I don't mind_  
_Falling to pieces_  
_Count me in, violent_  
_Let's begin feeding the sickness_  
_How do I simplify?_  
_Dislocate the enemy's on the way_

_~_

_Show me what it's like_  
_To dream in black and white_  
_So I can leave this world tonight_

Behind her closed eyes, hot tears burned against the thin layers of flesh. Her breaths were weak and fragile, stuttering over each other. The more reasoned part of her urged her to quickly change the song, but she couldn’t bring herself to move an inch. And what’s more, she wanted to feel it, without trying to stifle it, for once without a fight. She squeezed her eyes a little tighter, coaxing a solitary tear to creep down the side of her face.

The heat rising from the water dampened her already smudging make-up and tiny beads of sweat lined her hairline. She’d have to bathe and read and fill her head with music until she was too shattered to keep her eyes open.

Images haunted her mind’s eye, her protests were futile. Flashes of red, how her feet had slipped on the bloody floor just as she was reaching for the lights, the putrid stench of death polluting the air, the thrum of the zip as the body bag was closed up, the strength of Killian’s arms around her, his tight-throated whispers. She thought she’d slipped on water at first; perhaps Camilla had forgotten to close one of the windows when the storm hit Storybrooke, but it had been far too thick to have been water. Far too warm. She hadn’t been the only person in the house, and yet she’d been completely alone.

 _Full of fear_  
_Ever clear_  
_I'll be here fighting forever_  
_Curious, venomous_  
_You'll find me_  
_Climbing to heaven_

 _Never mind,_  
_Turn back time._  
_You'll be fine - I will get left behind._

_~_

_Holding on too tight._  
_Breathe the breath of life,_  
_So I can leave this world behind._  
_~_  
_It only hurts just once._  
_They're only broken bones._  
_Hide the hate inside._

* * *

 The following night could have been easily lived by an entirely other person.

Dressed head to toe in black, easier to disappear into the dark, the weight of her leather jacket was pleasingly comfortable on her back, as were the weapons tucked into her belt. Her hair was tied up in a tight, high ponytail, brushed immaculately; a Stirling silver choker protectively adorned her neck; bracelets, her wrists. Even her gloves were studded with the metal. A call had come in at the station barely an hour after the sun had set. Emma sent her lieutenants in first with a promise that she and David would follow. The call for help had been vague, choked with terror on the phone, so they weren’t sure what to expect. Naturally they prepared for the worst.

Perhaps that was sad.

Driving in police cars would give too much away. The guise of the ‘civilian’ had been a surprising asset in their endeavours. Vampires were less likely to flee the scene if a civilian car was coming – it could even encourage them. A potential for a bigger meal.

Sabryna could barely keep still in the passenger seat of Killian’s car. Her hand was already gripped tightly around the handle of her stun-gun. It seemed a little sci-fi but in effect it projected rays of UV light, more directly harmful to vampires than to humans. It was the first line of attack, designed specifically to draw vampires away from any human victims or casualties, to get a reaction. Fight or flight.

Next came the silver bullets and silver-lined weapons, and if worst came to worst, they unleashed bullets and bolts of the finest woods.

“Itchy trigger finger?” Killian muttered with a sense of déjà vu, the statement as ironic as it was self-explanatory. The reply he got was a stiff hum, below the breath, affirming his inquiry. “Happens to us all,” he added, leaving his ever accumulating observation that it seemed to weigh down on her more than most, draining and fuelling her mutually.

The call drew them to a particularly secluded corner of the town, with few lights and even fewer eyes to pry.

In that night’s case it was the docks. Killian stopped the car a small distance away. The pair kept their preliminary weapons at the ready and, hearing the cries and the growls that rolled in on the air, hastened. Crouched low, they ducked behind an upturned crate that had yet to loaded, high enough to conceal them if they kept their heads bowed. From the corner if his eye, Killian could make out the shakes in Sabryna’s hand in seeing the planes of the gun reflecting about a dozen different light angles per second. She always kept their head in the heat of battle, even terrified she was razor sharp. But before, so much built up that Killian thought the girl might shatter from the very core.

The waiting was always the worst part, but Sabryna was neither stupid nor inexperienced. As much as she ached to, simply charging in, without even a moment of thought, would get her killed by her own idiocy. The ground was hard, the air was dank and cold, and thick with noises that could make a veteran’s stomach turn. Clenching her weapon in gloved fists, Sabryna inched up from her crouch.

Bile churned in her gut at the sight of two bodies already strewn across the floor, surrounded in thick blood and torn flesh, unmoving. Only an act of brutal pleasure could be so messy. She recognised all of them.

Sabryna picked out three remaining humans and three vampires, who had each chosen their next victim. One was already feeding, the other two tossing their prey about like ragdolls for the sheer entertainment. Through the blurs of attacking, she made out a woman, dark haired and tall, and two males who didn’t seem to match her speed or finesse in the hunt.

_Maybe they’re baby vampires, might explain the mess…_

_Don’t think of it now._

She’d seen enough, so had Killian.  

A bellow of rage tore from the very pit of her being as she sprung up, resonating through her diaphragm, lungs and throat, as she charged like a hound that had splintered the chains of its lead. Instinct almost made her toss her current weapon aside and reach straight for the gun loaded with wooden bullets, entirely forgetting the silver, but she forced herself to follow the protocol and showered the scene with sharp jets of UV light, leaping over the leaking blood of the still-warm corpses. One of the two males fled immediately despite the odds still being in their favour. The attention of the other two was diverted onto her, just as she wanted it.

The vampires held up their arms in gut reaction to the stinging assault that was far stronger than anticipated, shielding their faces as they backed off enough for their would-be dinners to clamber to their feet, no matter how lightheaded.

“Get behind us!” Killian hollered, swapping his weapon for one that would fire live rounds of silver, brushing off the gnarly growls hurled at him amidst the relentless bolts of UV light. The surviving victims, powered by their own struggles for survival, bolted to take cover behind the same rusting crate the lieutenants had sprung from, huddling and bleeding together until the fight ended.

Sabryna tossed her UV laser aside as though it were little more than a cheap toy and followed suit. She wasted no time in shooting first at the female as she was closest to her and likely the oldest, not caring her fire missed in the beginning; it was still enough to send a very strong message – one that usually enough.

Except she didn’t miss; a small _sizzling_ hole opened in her target’s shoulder and she had to grit her teeth against the sound that tore from the creature’s throat.

Close on her tail, Killian targeted the other vampire. However he, having witnessed the carnage before him, had withdrawn the fatal selection of his weapons. With a single, clear shot, Killian pierced the vampire’s dead heart. The cold monster collapsed into a mass of blood, stringy flesh and the clothes they’d worn.

The female vampire no longer cared about dislodging the bullet in her shoulder and hissing at her oncoming attacker, suddenly screaming, and moved in a blur to the putrid remains. She fisted them needily in her hands, howling and wailing in agony. Sabryna aimed at her turned back, right between her heaving shoulders.

But couldn’t bring herself to pull the trigger.

Killian, believing his partner would finish the job – because it _was_ her job – had run back for the victims the moment after he had fired, so sure that Sabryna would take care of the other with no trouble. The next moments blurred into slow motion. He turned his head, having not heard anything beyond the tortured yowling, yelling at his partner to just shoot, but not a moment later, the vampire who had initially fled reappeared. And was not alone.

Sabryna was alone and exposed, cut off.

Killian flung himself to his feet, warning the civilians to stay down as he abandoned their temporary cover but didn’t attack. With the vampires between him and Sabryna, there was any and every chance that he might end up hitting her instead. To his relief, his partner had broken free of the unprecedented paralysis and sprung back into life, turning her aim onto the new arrivals, unsure of when the harrowing wails had subsided. They laughed at her, sensing the racing heartbeat, smelling the fear.

Her next shot came with ease, and struck one vampire cleanly in the neck, not killing but incapacitating, knowing they would need blood to heal from a silver wound. The small pack of four – five, counting the mourning woman –scattered into blurs and rippling snarls.

A sudden force collided with Sabryna’s chest, throwing her backwards by several feet. Landing on her back, the impact left her winded and pained, which only fuelled the fire that she could practically breathe. The vampire who had thrown her was above her in the blink of an eye, ready to make a meal of her. Without conscious thought, her hands clawed at his face, dragging dozens of silver studs across dead flesh. He lost his balance and fell back.

It was all the distraction Sabryna needed to empty two bullets, one in the chest, one right through the eye.

“Hey!” Sabryna registered Emma’s voice from somewhere ahead of her, a harsh bark that attracted the last scraps of fight from the younger’s attacker. David was quick to sprint past in Killian’s aid and Emma opened fire on the vampire baring his fangs and snarling as blood seeped from the hollow cavity of his eye, red burn marks scattered across his whole face.

Then came the sickening sound and sight of crumbling of bone and muscle, and the young lieutenant was sprayed with cold blood.

“You’re paying to get this dry cleaned!” she called through a small sputter as the sheriff ran past her in, a sick kind of humour.

“Remind me!” Emma called back, catching up with David.

Lips curving upwards, Sabryna sprung back to her feet with renewed vitality, and then noticed that Killian had been drawn away from the poor people who were still huddling behind the shipping crate, and that he’d dwindled his attackers down to three.

After replacing her ammunition in swift practiced motions, she took off after Emma, assuming a defensive position to protect the survivors, using it to strategically shoot and weaken the remaining vampires, leaving them to be finished off by her colleagues.

Close combat was dangerous, and sometimes the most effective method of attack was to let a vampire to get close, become consumed in their next kill, and trust that an ally would strike while their back was turned.

They brought the number of vampires down to two in under a minute, using such techniques of distraction, but had lost David to a nasty knocking out by the woman whom Sabryna had refused to shoot. Having pulled David’s limp frame, with her adrenaline-infused strength, across the short distance to the shelter of the crate, which was more symbolic than practical, she steadfastly refused to leave her post against all urges, knowing how irresistible an easy target was, despite it meaning that she had to let Emma and Killian fight alone. The vampire who’d returned with the reinforcements leapt at the sheriff, too quick for her fire. He collided to the ground with her, batting the weapon from her hand.

Sabryna shot round after round, no longer breathing. She feared her supply of bullets would run out. She had more but the time needed to change ammunition again was time that Emma did not have. And silver could only do so much.

He stumbled and wrenched as round after round ripped into his skin yet seemed utterly determined to crawl back and claw at his prey, even as she kicked and pounded with silver studded gloves. Every time she thought she might have the split second to reach another weapon the onslaught reared up and she was left struggling like an animal.

And when Sabryna’s bullets ran out there was nothing to keep knocking him back and buy those precious moments for Emma’s life.

Then, like his presence had never been, the vampire was gone and Emma left panting and shaking on the cold hard ground.

The two women, stunned by the renewed silence, realised their enemies had fled, for good this time. They were gone, but they realised as they swept the docks, so was Killian.

The adrenaline in Sabryna’s system was overtaken by a cold terror that twisted in her back and belly. The sweat on her skin froze and the pounding of her heart, which had urged her on like a war drum, was now sickening in her ears. She looked around again, almost choking, searching for her partner. Only three bodies were left to count – the two murdered victims and the unconscious David. Counting again and again didn’t materialize a fourth.

He wasn’t anywhere.

“Killian,” she first uttered in a whisper, stumbling out into the open space, accidently submerging her boot in the dead blood of one of the corpses. “Killian!”

“Where is he? He was right here,” Emma exclaimed, only just keeping hold herself. She opened her mouth to ask the civilians if they’d seen what had happened but the question died in her throat as they were only now peeking out from behind the crate, too weakened and frightened to have made a run for it.

“He’s gone. He’s just gone,” the younger was on the verge of hysterical, walking backwards with her hands gripping her ruffled ponytail. “Killian!” she called out as loudly as she could, but found her vocal cords strained.

Emma darted over and gripped her lieutenant by the upper arms. “Hey, hey. Look at me. We’ll find him, I promise. But we still have a job to do and I need you. Okay? I need you.”

Fighting for breath, Sabryna nodded shakily. Emma held her eyes for a moment longer before running over to the survivors, already on her phone to call for back-up and an ambulance. Taking another breath, Sabryna held herself together as best she could and hurried over to David’s side. By a miracle he stirred after a little coaxing. “What happened?” he asked groggily, sitting up with Sabryna’s shaking arms.

“The vampires are gone, but so is Killian,” Sabryna’s voice cracked. She pinched her lips together. _Hold it together. Hold it together._

“Gone? What do you mean gone?”

“I don’t know. He just vanished. They must have taken him.”

“How many got away?”

“Two, I think.”

David cursed angrily, a rare thing for him. Sabryna helped him to his feet and kept her arm around his thick, muscled waist. Help arrived quickly. One ambulance crew collected the two bodies and put them in body bags to be taken to the morgue while the other crew tended to the three survivors and remaining fighters.

They’d been lucky enough to avoid serious injury, nothing a hot shower, painkillers and a long sleep wouldn’t fix, mostly.

It didn’t need to be said that they all wished their minds and hearts could heal as quickly and easily as their bodies. Mary-Margret had driven over to take David home herself, despite his insistences that he was fine, and Emma guided her shaking lieutenant to her car to get her home safely as well once everything had been cleared up for the night. She’d mumbled somewhere along the way that someone would have to pick up Killian’s car.

The sheriff didn’t try talking to her, knowing the girl was still in shock and even a single word would tip her over the edge.

Emma thought repeatedly about offering to take Sabryna for a check-up at the hospital, for she looked so ashen and gaunt, her hollowed eyes glistening but cheeks dry

There was nothing she could do for her friend at that moment apart from see that she got home and to bed safely. The younger offered a quiet thanks when she got out of the car, having declined the offer to be seen up to her flat with a subdued shake of the head. The pain in her back body had only sunk in and festered in the last half hour or so, leaving her walking almost like a cripple. When she got up to her flat, which felt even colder than usual, she downed four paracetamol with some water, used the bathroom and shed her clothes with no small amount of pain and effort. Naked, she crawled into her bed, curling up tightly and wrapping herself up, making a cocoon out of her quilt and pillows.

She’d never been more thankful for the physical aches that covered her body and the utter exhaustion that had been left behind after her adrenaline had faded. Her mind could barely piece two strands of thought together, but she knew that if she could have done then she would have wept and wailed all night long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading :) Songs used were 'Nobody Praying for Me' by Seether and 'Unknown Solider' by Breaking Benjamin.  
> I'm doing a little experiment by including one or two songs per chapter to go with the themes/events and if you have any suggestions then don't hesitate to let me know.


	2. The Curious and Commonplace

_I couldn't tell you_   
_Why she felt that way_   
_She felt it everyday_   
_And I couldn't help her_   
_I just watched her make_   
_The same mistakes again_

_~_

_What's wrong, what's wrong now_   
_Too many, too many problems_   
_Don't know where she belongs_   
_Where she belongs_

_~_

_She wants to go home_   
_But nobody's home_   
_That's where she lies_   
_Broken inside_   
_With no place to go_   
_No place to go_   
_To dry her eyes_   
_Broken inside_

 

_Nobody's Home,_ Avril Lavine

It wasn’t until late afternoon of the next day that Sabryna was roused from her comatose state. Sluggishly, she reached over to her side table to get her phone and call Granny’s to see if she could work the evening shift. She knew that there was a very slim chance of being turned down but she still held to the formality of asking. Of course Granny had no qualms with the extra help and after hanging up, Sabryna dragged her sore body from the comfort of the bed, throwing on her dressing gown and limping into the kitchen. Despite having no appetite, she made herself some bread and butter and a cup of tea; she’d have to line her stomach before she could take more painkillers. Meanwhile her mind chanted that she just had to keep going and focus on what she was doing. If she stopped, she might never start again.

She shovelled torn pieces of buttered bread into her mouth and gulped down her sweetened tea when it was cool enough not to scald her throat, swallowing another couple of pills with it. With a couple of hours to kill before her shift started (she’d already decided to go in a little early, even if just for the company) she lugged herself into the bathroom and turned the shower handle to full blast. Waiting for it to heat up, Sabryna shrugged her dressing gown off and hung it up on the back of the door, then stood in front of the mirror to examine her injuries. There had never been much fondness between her and her body, and normally she wouldn’t look at it. The longer she observed herself, the more flaws and imperfections she found. But the scrapes and bruises distracted her from her usual critical eye.

It could have been much worse, she reasoned, and turned on her music before stepping into the shower. For several minutes she simply stood under the hot flow of water, mouthing the words of the songs playing. Some parts of her skin burned at first but the hotness of the water was soon blissfully relaxing. Carefully she scrubbed her body down with lavender scented shower gel; she had rather invested in lavender scented things – bath and shower lotions, candles and oils. Nothing was quite as relaxing. Her current supply of shampoo and conditioner was scented with a light air of chocolate. Killian often liked to playfully sniff her hair…

Mentally slapping herself, Sabryna forced herself to start singing the lyrics of the song playing. Anything to not think about that. She let herself soak for a while after all the conditioner had been washed out. Music kept playing as she dried off and dressed in her uniform. As usual combing through her hair was a bit of a nuisance and she left it loose so it would dry quickly before applying her make-up. She put on a little more concealer than usual to mask the tiredness of her eyes. Even with more than an hour before she shift was due to start, Sabryna adorned her beige long coat and lastly switched off her music before closing the door behind her. Trotting down the steps, she put her earphones in and picked a song at random on her iPod, afraid of silence.

_He left no time to regret_

_Kept his dick wet_

_With his same old safe bet_

_Me and my head high_

_And my tears dry_

_Get on without my guy_

_~_

_You went back to what you knew_

_So far removed from all that we went through_

_And I tread a troubled track_

_My odds are stacked_

_I'll go back to black_

_~_

_We only said goodbye with words_

_I died a hundred times_

_You go back to her_

_And I go back to..._

_I go back to us_

With each step, each piano cord and vocal note, Sabryna held her head a little higher. Her exterior became a little stronger. She would get through this, she would get through this. She had to. The clacking of her boots on the pavement fuelled her mask of confidence. This part of her had no room for melancholy.

_I love you much_

_It's not enough_

_You love blow and I love puff_

_And life is like a pipe_

_And I'm a tiny penny rolling up the walls inside_

_~_

_We only said goodbye with words_

_I died a hundred times_

_You go back to her_

_And I go back to..._

_~_

_We only said goodbye with words_

_I died a hundred times_

_You go back to her_

_And I go back to..._

_~_

_Black, black, black, black, black, black, black,_

_I go back to..._

_I go back to..._

_~_

_We only said goodbye with words_

_I died a hundred times_

_You go back to her_

_And I go back to..._

_~_

_We only said goodbye with words_

_I died a hundred times_

_You go back to her_

_And I go back to black_

A light skip had found its way into her step by the time of the bridge. Even her mouth had tilted upwards. She remembered why she’d always loved that particular Ballard, aside from the memorable melody. Strength in the face of sadness, a kind of dignity after defeat. It gave her strength of her own, the will to keep going and let out her brighter side while she could still reach it. And cling onto it with everything she had.

“Your shift doesn’t start for another hour,” Granny commented as Sabryna stepped through the door.

“I know,” she replied airily.

“Not that I’m complaining. Can always use an extra pair of hands. Are you sure you’re all right to work though? David told me what happened.”

“It’s all right,” Sabryna reassured her. “I’d rather be here than sitting around at home.”

Granny gave a firm nod, an understanding reached. Sabryna slipped through the diner into the office/back room to put away her things. Her thoughts sang a mantra; she had to keep it together and not slip up. Keep it together and not slip up. Finding her smile, the young woman, practiced in grace, got to work.

With more of a hurry than usual, she went from table to table, scribbling down orders and making pleasant conversation, never stopping. From the side-lines, Henry watched with worry. He didn’t have to be a mind reader to know how troubled she was. Her performance was adept enough to fool the customers, who probably weren’t paying that much attention anyway, but he could see the difference like black and white. She was all smile and charm, yet no longer cool and contented. And of course, being what he was, he could delve all the deeper into her tormented psyche.

She would snap so angrily at herself if she thought she’d slipped up or if images of the previous night flickered into the view of her mind’s eye. He heard the mantra she was repeating to herself, and the fear. She was so scared of slipping up and falling into the trap of her own mind. He heard her promising herself that she could let the performance go when she got home but not a moment before. His head started to hurt, so he couldn’t imagine how troubled her head was. The younger soon couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sabryna,” he spoke softly, approaching her carefully as though he feared she would spook, “come sit in the back with me.”

She turned on him sharply. “Have you been listening? You promised you wouldn’t do that,” Henry flinched at the hurt attached to her tone.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he sputtered guiltily. “I can’t always help it, though. Please just come and sit with me; you need a break.”

“If you’ve been listening in then you know I can’t,” Sabryna’s voice lowered to a hiss for fear that someone would overhear her.

“You won’t be alone, though. I’ll be with you,” Henry assured her gently.

He saw the dilemma on her face as she weighed her choices. But then her face loosened as she exhaled with resignation. “Okay,” she muttered.

Putting his arm around her, initially a little gingerly, Henry lightly cupped her shoulder and guided her into the quiet back room. His touch became a little firmer once Sabryna made it clear the contact was welcome. He shut the door, cutting off nearly all the noises from the diner, and watched her extend her arms and flex in an attempt to ease the pain in her back. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” he asked as he sat down in the plush leather armchair and patted the spot between his widened legs.

Sabryna shrugged in reply, and nestled in the space between Henry’s thighs. His soft hands hooked over her shoulders, rubbing in firm circles. Henry was such a gentle soul, and she adored him for it. He worked his hands over her back, seeking out the knots and massaging them into submission. “Do you want me to just listen?” he suggested as an alternative.

“If you like,” Sabryna muttered impassively, unable to realise how much her change in character had worried the boy.

Keeping his hands moving over her back, Henry closed his eyes and entered her mind as carefully as he could, and silently apologised at her initial stiffness at the indescribable sensation of another presence in her psyche. Even more carefully, Henry probed her memories of the previous night. He saw what she had seen, heard what she had heard, and could feel what she had felt. He swallowed the lump in his throat before it choked him. Ordinarily he would have tried to reassure her but he knew she didn’t want to hear it, not when so much of her energy was going into blocking it out. So instead he continued to massage her tense muscles and hoped the quiet would sew up the cracks in her faltered exterior.

“Do you think you can go back out there?” Henry asked a few minutes later.

Her answer was in her sigh as she heaved herself up to her feet and straightened out her skirt. Henry was a little slower, worried that her defences had been hurriedly thrown up again, until she turned around. He was instantaneously struck by the soft glisten in her eyes, not a trace of hardness on her. Hearing her thoughts, Henry opened his arms and she fell into them. “You’ll find him, I promise,” the younger but slightly taller boy murmured into her downy hair. He felt her sides expand in another sigh but she said nothing, allowing herself to simply be held.

A couple of hours later, when both of them had long been hard at work, Emma came in, the small bell jingle heralding her arrival. She was dressed very prettily as though she were on her way for an evening out but her hair and make-up were not done to correspond. Henry was first to greet her, while Sabryna waited behind the bar. If Emma needed to tell her something then she would come to her. And she did.

“Should I even ask?” Sabryna muttered with dull sarcasm, looking her counterpart up and down.

“I was thinking we could check out that Vampire bar when you finish your shift,” Emma said, taking a seat at the bar, while Henry fixed her a cup of hot cocoa with cinnamon.

“What vampire bar?” her son cut in.

“The one Killian mentioned the other night,” Sabryna answered, voice brittle. She turned to Emma, “We can do. I’ll see if I can get off at twelve. And I’m guessing you want to borrow some of my make-up?”

“If that’s all right. If I put it on earlier it would have melted off by now.”

“Fair enough,” the younger shrugged. “Just us two?”

“Yep,” Emma nodded and took a sip of her cocoa. “Don’t want to attract attention.”

“Mom, a _vampire_ bar? Are you insane?” Henry implored. “You spend all your time trying to keep them away from here and now you’re going straight to them?”

“We only try and get rid of the ones who are a threat,” Sabryna reminded him evenly. “We have vampires living perfectly happily here. They just want a quiet life like the rest of us. It’s just typical that the ones who try to hurt people and cause trouble get the spotlight.”

“There are extremists in every group of people,” Emma added in a kind of analogy. “Just so happens that quiet areas can attract negative attention because we’re low-profile. Human criminals have been known to do the exact same thing.”

Henry rolled his eyes, having heard every strand of Emma’s safety talk a dozen times. “I know, you’ve told me.”

“I just mean that just because we’re going to a vampire doesn’t mean something bad will happen. We’re just going to make sure,” she explained calmly. “I promise we’ll both be careful.”

With a little hesitation, Henry accepted it and went back to work. Emma followed him with her eyes before turning with a sigh to look down into her steaming drink. She knew Henry worried about her every day and wished just as often that she could do something about it. No mother liked the thought of their child worrying about them. It was meant to go the other way around.

“You know he talks about joining up with the department more and more,” Sabryna told her, using the quiet time to make herself a sex-on-the-beach cocktail.

“Ugh, I know,” Emma sighed wearily. “I don’t want to be one of those moms who stops their kid from doing what they want; I just wish he didn’t want to sign up for the most dangerous job on the go.”

“I don’t think you and Regina combined could stop him from doing what he wants,” the accented woman said.

Emma took another sip, “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

For the remainder of Sabryna’s shift, Emma stayed at the bar and she and Henry took turns in keeping her company until the clock struck midnight. The sheriff dropped her son home before driving over to her lieutenant’s flat. She raided Sabryna’s stock of make-up and accessories while their owner surveyed the wardrobe, seeking something suitable to wear. Sabryna only owned two cocktail dresses, one white and one deep navy blue. Naturally she chose the latter. Emma had drawn her hair up into a neat ponytail and adopted a typical smoky eye look. Sabryna gave her own locks another brush but left them hanging loose. Then she dabbed some silver on her eyelids and lined her eyes delicately with black. It would do.

The vampire bar was, as estimated, about half an hour from Storybrooke. As they set off Emma switched on the radio and by chance it was Maroon 5’s ‘One More Night’ playing. It was upbeat and catchy, just what Sabryna needed. She didn’t feel shy in front of Emma so started singing along and tapping her foot to the beat. Emma always liked the sound of her friend’s voice and was soon humming along with her. In the safety of the car, with music in the background, Sabryna felt strangely relaxed, even with the awareness that the reality had yet to hit her. She would be walking straight into a room full of vampires with nothing but her instincts and wits to protect herself. Despite what she’d said to Henry earlier, practically all of her personal experiences with vampires hadn’t been all that pleasant; there was a genuine hope that she’d make the acquaintance of some perfectly normal people, who just happened to have fangs, and wanted to fit in like everyone else.

However a tenseness settled in the pit of her stomach when they entered the neighbouring, larger town, which was significantly livelier than Storybrooke. Still singing or humming along to whatever song was playing, Sabryna supposed what it would be like to actually meet a vampire. Perhaps once or twice in her life had she come face to face with a vampire without any animosity present and that experience had been all but completely overshadowed by her more frequent encounters with the night-people.

Having successfully followed the directions given to her, Emma pulled into the spacious carpark assigned to the equally large converted warehouse, the word ‘Neverland’ strewn across in deep illuminated red letters. “You ready?” Emma glanced at her lieutenant; even with her limited human senses she could practically feel the anxiety ebbing from her.

“Not really,” contradictorily, Sabryna opened the car door and swung up to her feet. Emma followed, making sure to lock the car.

There was no small number of people lingering outside the entrance, which had a plush green carpet leading up to it, and a petite woman – presumably a vampire – acting as a bouncer. They were likely out there enjoying the fresh night air and the quieter space; Sabryna could hear, and more importantly feel, the thrum of music coming from within. She had felt the rush of fear enough times to know that it was present in many of those around her. It was an instinct, of course it was to be expected. This type of fear; she was used to it. She felt it no less strongly but had done so a thousand times before. What was strange was the anxiety that accompanied the social situation. It was something she’d been free of, mostly, in Storybrooke where everyone, again mostly, all knew each other.

Both hunters took a moment to simply survey the scene before them, cynically waiting for their guts to scream at them. They could sense the danger, but not the same kind of danger they knew all too well. Adequately satisfied, the women strode over to the entrance and as soon as their feet touched the green rug, the woman watching the entrance greeted them.

“Good evening,” she had a soft New Zealand accent lifting her voice. “Can I see your ID’s? We have to make sure we don’t serve any minors.”

Sabryna and Emma rummaged through their bags and handed over their cards to the woman. As she checked them, Sabryna’s wandered over her outfit. A deep green overbust corset hugged her slim waist, leaving her shoulders bare but she doubted this woman felt the cold. A matching black skirt hung on her hips, the hem zigzagged so that parts of her thighs could be seen, the rest of her legs covered by high boots. Her blonde hair shimmered almost too beautifully, and her eyes held the same ethereal glow that all vampires possessed but Sabryna had never really been able to appreciate it. So many people would kill for that kind of beauty.

“Everything’s all fine. You both have interesting names,” the woman smiled a smile that no one could fake. “I’m Tink, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Emma smiled back. Sabryna had lost her voice to shyness but her eyes spoke well enough for her.

“And yourselves. Right, you can go on in,” Tink chirped as she stepped aside to let them pass. On her way in Sabryna met Tink’s glittering eyes and smiled coyly.

_Diverse_. That was the first word that came to the young lieutenant as her eyes took in Neverland’s interior. Green was the second. On the right was a long bar, like at Granny’s Diner but with a very, very different style. In the further right corner were lots of little tables, a few cosy booths and a couple of sofas. But as her eyes ventured, the left side of the huge room was almost a different place entirely. A large portion of the floor had been allocated as a dancefloor, and there were a small number of raised platforms for dancers, a couple with long metal poles. Like the divide in the room, the divide in the people present was just as clear.

Those who were perhaps a little less adventurous, or who were there to appreciate the atmosphere like it was any other club/bar, gravitated towards the right side of the room, chatting and drinking amongst themselves, happy to just be socializing and mingling. Of course some were up and dancing but when she looked to the left side, the clothing, hairstyles and accessories became more extravagant; gothic, punk, metal were the kind of labels one might assign to what they saw. One woman with short spiky hair, white skin and black make-up caught her eye. But it was more because there was nothing but strips of tape covering her chest. Although not judging, her modesty caused her to avert her eyes.

“Let’s get a drink,” Emma proposed. Sabryna followed her to the bar and told her what she wanted, and Emma ordered for them both.

They spun slightly on their stools, facing towards each other, and looked more closely around the room. It was then that Sabryna noticed the raised platform in the far left corner of the room. Atop it was a luxurious green velvet sofa. But no one was occupying it. It didn’t look right. The bartender serving them was a vampire also. Like Tink, he was perfectly cordial, less bubbly, but neither Emma nor Sabryna felt their guts stir. So far, so good.

Nevertheless, Sabryna finished her first drink rather quickly and wasted no time in ordering a second. The night was in full swing. More and more people had gravitated towards the dancefloor, human and vampire both, beautiful bodies rocking, swaying and writhing to the low sensual music. She could sense the thin current of fear in the air, as was expected, but it was almost overwhelmed by the excitement, the thrill, the desire and passion. She could barely imagine what it must be like for a mere mortal to attract the attention of such a glorious being, even if for just one song.

“You know most magazines are now saying that everyone should have sex with a vampire at least once,” Emma told her when she saw her friend fixated on one of the more modest human/vampire couples.

“I don’t suppose it’s likely in our line of work,” Sabryna muttered just loud enough for Emma to hear. “Anyway, you’ve got Neal.”

“I know, but you’re not seeing anyone, are you?”

A blush raised to the surface of Sabryna’s cheeks. “No. What, do you think I should…?”

“Only if you wanted to,” Emma shrugged. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t fire you or anything,” her voice was low, a strange mix of assurance and seriousness.

Despite the nature of their work, it was written nowhere that they could not have a relationship with a vampire. Regular policemen and women did not swear off relationships with other people because they dealt with criminals of the same species. However in general, hunters either remained single, like herself or Killian, or found long term committed relationships, like Mary-Margret and David, and Emma and Neal.

“I’m not sure if I’m looking for anything,” Sabryna said, her eyes drawn to the vampire dancing with flawless sensuality on one of the poles, alternating between human and vampiric speeds. Their fangs were dropped, an intricate part of their sexuality, which admittedly struck the young woman by surprise.

“It could do you good,” Emma offered amicably and the other shrugged with a hum. Not an agreement but not a refusal either. “There’s plenty of people here,” she quickly changed the subject; “That’s a good sign.”

Sabryna nodded her assent, keeping her eyes on the move. Fewer people were lounging in the cosy booths, nearly everyone had crowded onto the dancefloor. She sought out a human/vampire couple at random, curious and bewildered, and knew there and then that one could not imagine the experience without having had it themselves. The two shared a deeply intimate kiss and when they parted, the vampire took the hand of her human partner and led him through the crowd, weaving though the other people like waves of long grass. Sabryna had to squint her eyes so she didn’t lose them in the sea of growing lust and saw them slip through a concealed door, and disappear.

Emma leaned forward a little, glancing between Sabryna’s face and the line of her gaze. “What did you see?”

“I think they have other rooms or something,” she gestured with her head. “Behind that wall.”

Emma parted her lips to speak again, only to remain silence when they felt a new presence. A tall young man had approached them, blonde of hair, like Tink, but had a distinguishing scar, although fairly faint, across his face. The only way he could have retained it was if he had it when he was turned – for he was a vampire, unmistakably.

With a formal bow, he introduced himself, “Good evening, I’m Felix. Who might you two be?”

Sabryna looked to her sheriff, establishing herself as the less dominant of the two. “I’m Emma, and this is Sabryna,” Emma replied pleasantly.

Felix’s teeth bared in his smile. “A pleasure,” he practically purred with a polite incline of his head. “Can I buy either of you a drink?” His eyes lingered a little longer on Emma than on her. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite. We only feed on the willing here.”

“I’m all right,” Sabryna answered quickly, too awkwardly for her liking. Sometimes she wondered how she managed to be so confident and charming in other situations and so painfully bumbling in others. “I need a breather,” she said, looking to Emma. Before the other could put words into her expression of concern, Sabryna had almost leapt from her seat and bolted to the main entrance.

The air was cool and refreshing, sobering her up immediately. Only in the sudden quiet did she appreciate how loud it had been inside. She slipped past a group of people who were standing and chatting amongst themselves and leant against the wall, a good distance away from anyone else, and let herself slump. Her head hung low, eyes closing.

“Are you okay?” said Tink. “You don’t feel sick, do you?”

Looking up, the young woman saw that Tink had come right over to check on her, and couldn’t deny that she was more than a little flattered. “No, I’m okay. It’s just a little…y’know…in there.”

“I understand,” the immortal replied kindly. “You’re not typically the type of person to come here. Not that that’s a bad thing,” she added hastily in case she caused offence. “You just seem quite sweet and modest, and quiet.”

“You’re not wrong, I guess,” Sabryna replied. She’d seen the people in there. They had been so sensuous, so in touch with their sexualities, and brave or reckless enough to let themselves get swept along by vampires, the creatures of greatest strength, allure and exhilaration. In no way did she frown upon those people but she was perfectly aware that she was nothing like that. She wasn’t quite sure what had brought it on, or why it had overwhelmed her so. The air had suddenly felt so thick, and the noise too loud. It had felt as though she was suffocating in the space of a single moment.

Fear of the unknown, of getting pulled in too deep, of not being noticed, being left unchosen again; all of them seemed plausible though she couldn’t identify what it was that startled her.

“But you know, some vampires like humans like you,” Tink told her, hoping to lift the girl’s spirits. “I know I do.”

“Even for sex? Or feeding?” as she expected Tink faltered a little but couldn’t stop the bitter stab of disappointment and insecurity.

“There’s no single preference set in stone,” Tink tried to make up her mistake. She hadn’t meant to upset the girl. “Lots of vampires like a variety. It’d get pretty boring always doing the same thing. Were,” she paused, carefully searching the mortal’s eyes, “were you hoping to find someone?”

Sabryna’s lips broke apart in a mirthless smile, “No, not really. I’m not sure anyone would have chosen me anyway.” In her mind, she could tell herself a thousand times that there were endless types of beauty and so many people were beautiful in so many different ways. Her heart, however, was more stubborn. Even Emma carried herself with a quiet dignity and her inner strength was inspirational. But Sabryna, without her outer personalities – which were not pretences exactly – could not have been more dissimilar. When she thought of herself, descriptions like beautiful, elegant and strong never even occurred to her.

“Don’t say that. You’re very pretty. Beautiful, actually.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” the hunter challenged with a little too much sharpness that she instantly regretted.

“What, because I’m a vampire I have to be cold and bloodthirsty?” Tink confronted in return. A sudden wave of darkness crossed her fairy-like features, the predator peeking through. She caught the growing scent of fear.

“No, sorry,” Sabryna mumbled, looking down. “I’m just not used to it. And not all my encounters with vampires have gone that well. It’s partly why I came here.”

“I hope it’s helped change your mind,” Tink said lightly, her grace flawlessly restored.

“Yeah, but it’s still…scary.”

“I imagine it must be for all of you. But you humans have a strange addiction to fear.”

Sabryna couldn’t disagree with that. Tink continued to make small talk with her, much like she did with the customers at Granny’s diner. They got onto the topic of who owned the bar after Sabryna had mentioned that the sofa on the platform had been left unoccupied through the whole evening.

“His name is Peter,” Tink informed her. “He’s the oldest vampire here. Probably one of the oldest vampires that lives. He’s the Maker of my Maker – did you meet Felix?”

“Briefly,” Sabryna gave a stiff nod.

“Well, like I said, Peter is Felix’s Maker,” Tink reaffirmed.

“Where is he tonight then?” the human inquired.

“Oh, he’s here, just in the back rooms probably,” Tink’s perfect lips quirked upwards, sure that the girl would grasp the euphemism.

“Not alone, I’m guessing,” Sabryna could have sworn that Tink breathed in a little deeper than what would have been considered normal, as her blood to the surface, pushed up by her modesty. And the grin Tink gave her was all the answer she needed.

“You should come back sometime and you’ll probably see him then. It’s like looking at a god,” the petite vampire was almost swooning as her mind’s eye chose delicious, sinful images. “People are always offering themselves up to him.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Sabryna muttered. She sometimes wished she could have a magical earpiece that could tell her what to say so she didn’t sound like an idiot every time her nerves crept up on her.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t get carried away like that,” Tink appeared almost bashful. It helped Sabryna forget what things this woman was capable of. “But really, I’m sure there are plenty of vampires who would take a liking to you,” Tink opted for another subject change, curling a few stray wisps of hair behind her elfin ears. “If it’s not rude…but you do smell gorgeous.”

It was not the first time she had heard those words, or something along those lines, but it was certainly the first time it was intended as a genuine compliment. “Thanks, I guess,” she dropped her eyes to her feet.

“Your friend is coming,” Tink chirped, and the girl looked up to see Emma coming towards them.

“Are you okay?” she asked with the same worried tone she often used with Henry.

Nodding, Sabryna straightened her back, “Yeah, I just needed some air.”

“I thought you were going to come back in,” Emma said, pulling the tie out of her hair so it cascaded over her shoulders like a pale golden waterfall. “Do you want to go home?”

Without replying, her lieutenant nodded again. Emma was sure that her downcast expression couldn’t have all been down to exhaustion, though she knew the younger woman well enough not press her on the matter. “It was nice to meet you, Tink,” she said politely.

“You too,” the vampire’s smile was much brighter. Her diamond eyes fell on Sabryna, “I hope I’ll see you soon.”

“Me too,” Sabryna answered weakly, offering a little wave as she walked on Emma’s tail back to the car.

She slumped in the comfy car seat and slipped off her shoes before putting her feet up on the dashboard. Head lolling back, she felt her muscles loosen and relax. Her bed was all she wanted now.

“Was Felix nice?” she still asked, voice sleepy, when she heard Emma shut her door and the click of her seatbelt.

“Yeah, we just talked for a little bit. He asked after you,” Emma told her, pulling the car out of its spot.

At that, the younger’s eyes snapped open, “Really?” she hadn’t seen that one coming. Something close to guilt stuck her in the chest. She shouldn’t have run off and made a fuss. It had probably been out of politeness; she had a cynical feeling that he had been grateful to not have a third wheel present.

“Yeah, he wanted to know if you were all right – hey, don’t be embarrassed. He said a lot of people can get caught off guard the first few times they visit,” Emma’s voice was kind, the same way Tink’s had been. Not quite patronizing, perhaps pitying instead.

Sabryna looked away, out of her window and watched the streetlights pass by. She didn’t like to be looked down on like she was an incapable, breakable and delicate little girl. Even if those doing it were only trying to watch out for her. It made her feel tiny and useless. “What did you say?”

“I just told him you’d been shaken up by some stuff lately,” Emma said coolly. “I was worried about you.”

As much as she hated feeling like she was incompetent – not even being able to sit in a bar without losing her nerve – she did honestly appreciate Emma’s concern, knowing she would have been worried if Emma had been the one who disappeared. Not that she would though, Emma could keep her shit together.

“And I can tell you’re beating yourself up over it,” the older woman continued, “Listen, I don’t know many people who could hack the crap you’ve gone through and still keep a brave face on it. But you’re only human – hell, you’re only just twenty-one. You don’t need to be so hard on yourself. It’s okay to let things slip.”

Turning her head, Sabryna found Emma was looking straight at her. Sometimes it was as though she could read her mind just like Henry. And for a person who found it hard to express themselves, a mind-reader or highly perceptive person was exactly what she needed. It saved her from exhausting herself in trying to piece things together in spoken words and forcing herself to break the barrier on her tongue that kept it silent. Though at the same time it both unnerved and agitated her; when she wanted to keep something to herself, some people like Henry and Emma could still work her out.

With a long breath, Sabryna let her head roll back. The road back to Storybrooke was completely empty and there were no streetlamps to light the way. Her eyes were pointed up, marking out the faint lines of the high-reaching trees against the sky. The rest of the journey home was quiet and Sabryna just wanted to get in and collapse, where no one could see her.

“We’ll meet with the others tomorrow and talk about everything,” Emma said as she stopped her car in front of Sabryna’s flat.

Sabryna answered with a nod and a brief thanks for the lift and got out before anything else could be said. She flung her small bag aside to the sofa the moment she stepped through her front door, and went straight into her little kitchen for a glass of water. She took a few gulps and poured the rest down the sink, her hands braced on the counter.

A knock came at the door.

Looking up with a furrowed brow, she wondered who on earth would knock on _her_ door, let alone at that hour; she set the glass down and stepped, with no small amount of caution, towards the door. She twisted the latch and pulled it back. If she’d been holding anything it would have fallen from her hands. Her eyelids pulled back, the breath stuck in her throat.

“Killian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave a comment. 
> 
> Songs used were 'Nobody's Home' by Avril Lavine and 'Back to Black' by Amy Winehouse.


	3. The Vengeful Maker

 

_Grace is a candle bright and so fragile_  
_They blow it out and smash it down_  
_How can light survive in that cold dark world_  
_We have to save this light of heart_  
_~_  
_Pressure around you, within you, it tears you_  
_Let's find a key screams your soul_  
_Is this a nightmare, no it's reality_  
_Sometimes we could fall apart_  
_~_  
_I will steal your conscious and alter your mind_  
_I will take your soul and blacken your white reality_  
_I will lead you on a path_  
_Down to where you will embrace the darkness_

 

 

_Swamp of the World,_ Visionatica

 

 

 

“Wha-What are you doing here? I thought you’d been taken; I thought you were... What happened?” her words stumbled and fell over each other, pushed together at odd places. At first, her lips had drawn back in a smile but seeing the gauntness of his face dragged it down with cold hooks. “What’s happened?” she repeatedly.

“Sabryna, you…you need to invite me in,” he spoke as if confessing his darkest secret, flinching as what little colour drained from her face, and her blank astonishment gained clarity in its horror.

The alcohol in her system suddenly seemed all too happy to pick a fight with her innards. Muscles convulsed and the room was sent spiralling. She gulped thickly. Sickly heat spread over her skin. “C-Come in,” she forced out weakly, barely able to complete the utterance before bolting into the bathroom.

Practically throwing herself to the knees she gave up fighting and retched up the contents of her stomach. Killian was behind her, quick enough to pull back the mass of dark hair before it got coated in the vile stuff, and for a moment everything felt bizarrely normal. Her body juddered as more acidic liquid spewed from her mouth, searing the back of her throat. He would have rubbed slow circles on her back, the way he’d always done when the girl was in distress, if he could have trusted in his control over his own new inhuman strength. Frankly, he was rather thankful of Sabryna’s state – it provided a good enough distraction to the intoxicating scent that filled his head with every inhale that came from habit alone.

Although it hadn’t exactly been the welcome or reaction he’d been expecting. Then again, he hadn’t been sure of what to expect at all.

Stomach empty, Sabryna’s forehead dropped to the loo seat, panting and still retching every now and then, nothing left inside to give. Somewhere through it she’d closed her eyes but now couldn’t face the thought of opening them again save she lose all thread of consciousness.

“Any better?” Killian murmured softly, a strange quality laced into his voice that only a vampire could possess, which left every noise they uttered with an unearthly edge.

All he got from the girl was an unhappy grumble. The heightening of his senses still held him in shock. He could hear those shallow little breaths as clearly as if she were breathing right by his ear. But the stench was far more unpleasant for him than for her; lifting the ends of her hair, Killian inhaled that familiar chocolatey scent, and couldn’t help but smile.

“I’ll get you some water,” he said.

Taking good advantage of his enhanced speed, he was barely gone five seconds and Sabryna opened one of her hands, waiting to feel the cool glass against the clammy palm. With as much care as he could muster, Killian guided the glass into her outstretched hand, only letting go when certain it wouldn’t slip from her grasp. Shakily, she brought it to her lips, raising her head by a fraction, and even that was painful, and took a big sip. She swirled the water around her dirty mouth and spat it almost angrily down the toilet, while fumbling around to find the handle and flush it all away. For the sake of caution, Sabryna kept her eyes closed peacefully and her head rested in the crook of her arm, which was braced on the seat.

“What the fuck happened?” she ground out hoarsely.

It wasn’t really a conversation Killian had planned to have in her bathroom. With the utmost gentleness, he slipped his arms under her knees and lower back and lifted her now weightless form into his arms, putting aside the groans of protest at being moved – not able to smell distinct fear on her – and made sure her head was rested comfortably on his shoulder. Keeping at a human speed, he carried her to the sofa and laid her down on the left side with a cushion carefully slipped under her head before moving to sit by her feet.

“No,” her croaky voice came out in a whine, eyes now opened into thin slits, “want to see you.” Exhaustion had got the better of her usual reactions; she didn’t – _couldn’t_ – flinch when Killian moved in a blur to crouch in front of her. “What happened to you?” she repeated, now with an overbearing tone of sorrow.

His ebony hair was rugged and untidy, his clothes and face dusted with the soil he would have been buried under. He’d only just awoken as vampire, born at the sunset.

“The woman who took me – I killed her progeny in the attack,” Killian began, allowing time for Sabryna’s tired mind to call forth the recollection. The woman who had been mourning, weeping and yowling over the remains of what was once her progeny. “She wanted revenge but didn’t think killing me would be enough. What better punishment for a vampire hunter than turning them?”

What better punishment indeed? It was a commonly known fact that most on the force would rather die than be turned, both on them amongst the numbers. A burst of anger stirred in her chest; that someone had _dared_ to take her partner, more importantly _friend_ , from her and twist him into a monster, for revenge. “Where is she?” the human growled, knowing the threat was, at that moment, all but futile.

“That I do not know. She was long gone when I woke up,” Killian answered. His head rolled forward, preparing to utter another confession. “And I…I was so hungry.”

“You didn’t,” Sabryna whispered. It was beginning to sink in now. The dearest friend in her world was a bloodthirsty predator, a cold killer, and the most terrible thing was that he couldn’t even help it. Newborn and young vampires had little to no control over their impulses, they simply couldn’t stop themselves. It left her abruptly very aware that there was nothing she could defend herself with, nor any strength to fight with.

As much as it _hurt_ , she couldn’t trust him anymore.

“There was a hiker heading home in the woods. I couldn’t stop myself,” the newborn vampire was split down the middle, one half of him disgusted by what he’d done, and the other half remembering with dark glee how he hadn’t _wanted_ to stop. So much blood, so warm and sweet, no longer bitter and metallic as it had been to his human palate, flowing into his mouth from the gaping wound he’d ripped in his victim’s neck.

Sabryna ripped between sympathy and horror, unable to settle on either. Muscles tensed under skin the moment Killian started to fidget restlessly. He was still hungry. His shoulders lifted with a deep inhale, and his fangs dropped.

The girl startled back, not breathing, eyes open wide now. If he snapped…there’d be nothing she could do. Even if she’d been in perfect condition there’d be no hope of making it out alive. There were no weapons in the flat aside from the small revolver in her bedroom and even if she did, she already knew that she wouldn’t have been capable of using them. She hadn’t even been able to pull the trigger on the vampire because she’d been on her knees and grieving, and Killian had lost his human life because of her misguided mercy.

When Killian raised his head, Sabryna barely recognised him. The lines of his face had turned harsh and angular, no trace of the impish, witty man she’d known inside out. Lapis eyes blazed wildly, seeking out the tiny tic of her pulse with newly birthed instinct. Placing a large hand on the sofa, he pushed himself up onto his knees; Sabryna threw her hands out, pushing against his chest, crying out, “ _Don’t!_ ”

She’d once sworn, to herself more than anyone, that she’d never beg for her life to a vampire, but then she’d never thought her best friend would be turned into one.

Something behind his eyes clicked into place at the plea. He blinked sharply and drew back, as if invisible hands had grasped his shoulders and physically _pulled_ at him. The harsh lines in his face gradually softened, his eyes returned to a more _human_ façade. He didn’t seem to be able to retract his fangs though. “I don’t want to hurt you,” his voice sounded like it was being torn to shreds from the pit of his chest. “But I’m so hungry. All I can _think_ about is blood. And I hate himself for it,” he rolled onto his backside, knees wide and head hanging low in his hands. “I’m a fucking monster.”

“No, you’re not,” Sabryna insisted, perhaps a little too earnestly. She struggled for more words; “We can get you Tru Blood or blood from a donor or something. You don’t need to bite people to get blood.”

“I know I don’t need to, but I want to,” his jaw clenched, fangs aching.

“You _can’t_ ,” her words struck the defiant, superior side of his new nature. Humans didn’t tell vampires what they could or could not do, especially in spite of the simple fact that he could kill and drain the girl in mere minutes. The human part still clinging to him, ghosting, reared its head and fought back. No, he would _never_ hurt this girl. Not the one who’d let him come into her home instead of shunning him and casting him away. She was his only ally in the world.

“If you learn to feed safely then you can find someone who’s willing to let you…bite them,” she went on, voice lifted to match their peace-making intentions. “But if you bite someone now you’d kill them. And you know it.”

A stubborn growl reverberated in the back of his throat; he knew she was right. “Can I stay here for the time being?”

“All right,” Sabryna agreed drowsily. “If I go to sleep you have to promise not to bite me.”

“I promise,” Killian said through a ground jaw, finally managing to retract his fangs. He eased the mortal up a little so he could sit down and put the thin cushion in his lap. Sabryna rolled slowly onto her back, moving her hair to cover her neck out of habitual paranoia. She closed her eyes, finding it sufficient to rest without falling asleep, and it was mildly easier to relax when Killian unfolded the blanket that was slung over the sofa arm and placed it over her.

“Do we tell the others?”

“We’ve got to,” Sabryna replied, fighting back a yawn. “C’mon, it’s not like they’d stake you. You were turned against your will, and even if you weren’t…”

“I’ll probably lose my place on the force,” he brushed his fingers lightly over her forehead, dusting away stray bits of hair. Her softness was strangely calming.

Sabryna cracked an eye open, “No, you won’t. Emma wouldn’t do that. You’re still you. And they could help you.”

“I doubt being in a room full of fresh-blooded people is going to be a miracle for my restraint,” he drawled sarcastically.

“Emma needs to know, at least. She’ll have a better idea of what to do than me,” she said, completely sure of Emma’s competence and her own lack of it. The sheriff would never send her first lieutenant away. She was one of the most open minded and controlled people in the entire town, and Sabryna heavily suspected that the older woman would be even more pissed off at the demoness who had taken Killian’s humanity from him.

“All right, but just Emma, for the time being,” Killian reluctantly agreed.

“I’m seeing her tomorrow, I can talk to her then. I’ll bring her back in the evening and we can work something out. Will you be okay until then?”

“I suppose I’ll have to be. Don’t have much of a choice,” he reached for the remote and switched on the TV as a means of concluding their conversation, keeping the volume low so Sabryna could sleep. His fingers toyed with her warm deep brown coppery hair absentmindedly as he practised not inhaling and exhaling like he still needed air, and wondered when he’d grow used to the notion of not needing oxygen to function.

The young woman slipped in and out of sleep, turning over multiple times through the rest of the night, and when the first light broke through the windowpanes, she gave up trying to get back to sleep altogether. Killian was still watching TV but had been keeping a close eye on the dawn. Against the odds, he’d managed to keep his promise and hadn’t laid a harmful finger on her, though it was not without its toll. Sabryna took in the rigidness of his body as she sat up, not caring that she probably looked horrendous.

_He’s seen me in far worse states._

“You can sleep in my room,” she said, cautious eyes lingering on his face. The sharp edges had returned even more distinctly, jaw tight and clenched. His top lip quivered with the strain of keeping his fangs tucked away. Taut like a strung bow, Killian stood and vanished in a blur without a single word. The small slam of her door reminded her somewhat of a stroppy teenager who’d had their Wi-Fi suspended.

She jogged after him and, oddly, knocked on her own door. “I do need some clothes, you know.”

The look Killian gave her was half way to murderous when he pulled the door open, almost ripping it from the hinges. If she’d still been dealing with the human Killian she would have reprimanded him with a sarcastic comment and possibly a swat to the arm. Now, however, she didn’t dare. Instead she scurried past him, head ducked, and picked out a pair of knickers and socks, loose leggings, a tank top, a large grey hoodie and a random pair of trainers, bundling them all up in her arms before hurrying back out. Heading into the bathroom, with another door slam on her tail, she put everything down in a pile and turned on the shower, leaving out the music for fear of rousing the hungry-grumpy baby vampire. After showering, and left relatively refreshed with all her grimy make-up washed away, she checked the time on her phone – Granny’s would be opening soon. She dressed, tied her laces and thoroughly brushed her teeth, removing all trace of the previous night before cramming her phone and keys into her pockets, and slipped out with a lead-heavy weight of dread.

Granny’s had been open about fifteen minutes by the time she got there. Only Ruby and Henry were working and there were a few customers in for an early breakfast before work. Ruffling her stringy wet hair, Sabryna dragged herself over to the counter and hoisted herself up onto one of the stools.

“Rough night?” Ruby asked with a kind tilt of her head.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. I went with Emma to that new vampire bar last night. Can I have a tea?” Sabryna said, folding her arms and letting her head lower on them.

Ruby set about getting the young woman her morning cup of tea. “I’ve heard about that place. I really want to go there but Granny didn’t much like the idea.”

“It’s perfectly fine. I think you’d like it there,” Sabryna had an idea of Ruby’s personal tastes. She would like Neverland and Neverland would most certainly like her.

Ruby grinned, “I’ll tell Granny it’s been police approved. I know she’s only taking care of me,” she wiped the counter space in front of Sabryna before she put down her steaming mug of tea. The sultry waitress leaned over, “Did you meet anyone?”

“Not in that sense, I’m afraid,” Sabryna shrugged, knowing Ruby’s taste for gossip between friends. Usually she liked a good chinwag but things were too…abnormal. “We were just getting a look at it mostly. But yeah, you should go sometime.”

Ruby winked at her and darted off into the kitchen. Sabryna looked down into her tea, not overly inspired by the distorted reflection staring back, and began a long sequence of deep breaths to piece her frantic thoughts together. While she had no doubt that Emma would help Killian in any way possible, it would still be a bloody big shock. Sabryna didn’t like the thought of leaving him alone, even in the day.

Henry came into her eye-line, standing where Ruby had been. She swore silently, but vigorously. “Killian’s a vampire?!” Henry hissed, eyes widened. “And watch your language.”

“I told you to stay out of my head, and it doesn’t count if I don’t say it out loud,” she sat up straight, slapping her palms lightly into her thighs, “One day you’re going to get into big trouble. You know not to snoop.” There were hardly any people in the diner; if the place was crowded then she could understand Henry not being able to keep all the voices out but he’d had enough practice to stay out of people’s heads in quiet environments.

Henry ignored her reprimands. “What happened?”

“It’s not your concern. He doesn’t exactly want it advertised. Make yourself useful and find out when your mum is coming over here,” she snapped. Christ, she was almost as moody as Killian. Their moods often brushed off on one another, it hardly came as a surprise. “I was planning to tell her, and her alone but I guess you can sit in.”

Sabryna was on her third cup of tea when Emma got to the diner. It was a little busier by then, so they withdrew to the booth in the far corner. “What’s going on?” the sheriff demanded, features strewn worriedly. “Henry said something about Killian.”

Hearing his name, Henry joined them, sliding in next to his mother and matched her expectant expression. His seriousness was slightly undermined by the fact that he brought two hot chocolates with cinnamon sprinkles – actually it was _completely_ undermined.

“You remember there was a woman at the docks the other night?” she started, recalling what Killian had told her. “Killian killed her progeny, so she took him and,” it was harder than expected to say, “turned him.”

Emma’s reaction was generously more measured than her own had been, thankfully. At first she was rendered speechless as the lieutenant’s words sunk in. “What–What, where is he now?”

“Back at my flat. And he’s pissed, to say the least. He needs blood. Is there any way you can get any donor blood from the hospital or something?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll figure something out,” Emma was breathless; her pale eyes flickered as she strung together her thoughts in a contingent plan. “Why did she turn him? Why not just kill him?”

“Revenge,” Henry cut in, ignoring the sharp look Sabryna sent him. “She wanted him to suffer and knew a vampire hunter would probably prefer to die than be turned.”

“Well, she was right,” Sabryna grumbled. She turned to the sheriff, “Come by my flat after dark. I’m going home, I need to fucking sleep.”

“ _Language_.”

_Fuck, fuck, fuckety-fuck._

* * *

 

The flat was deathly quiet when she arrived back. The first thing she did was tiptoe to her door and put her ear to it. Breath held, Sabryna listened out for any stirs but heard nothing. With any luck, Killian was sound asleep. Sleep for her was out of the question while her mind was so energetic. Slipping off her trainers, she put on the TV and kept it on the low volume it was already set on before curling up on the sofa with the blanket snuggly around her petite form.

But exhaustion dragged a slumber right through until the late afternoon, disjointed though it was. Sleep regularity had waved bye-bye when depression and GAD had grown into their entirety several years before. Joining the police force about two years ago had given a more standard excuse for it, and meant she didn’t have to bother with trying to _fix_ it. With mixed shifts at Granny’s and the nights protecting Storybrooke, which could finish before midnight or drag on until the first light of dawn was on the horizon, she slept when she could, showered when she could and ate when she could. To pass the rest of the day, Sabryna switched on the TV, flicking through the channels until she found something she liked. Although she didn’t pay much attention to it, just looking at the screen with little heed paid to what was actually happening.

The features of her face had become stony, eyes glassy. No war-paint, no armour, no one to coax one of her _personas_ from her. Everything was blank in its purest form, just a body housing a life. She tried a smile and it ached. A comfortable heaviness had settled in her cheeks and jaw, natural and easy after so many years. Regularly she eyed the sky though the window, willing and wishing it to set more quickly. This limbo did not agree with her.

Not a moment after the sun had set, Killian emerged from her bedroom, his temper only slightly bettered after resting. He paced around the room agitatedly. Sabryna recognised the behaviour; when she’d been starving and had no food available she’d all but broken down in a tantrum before storming off to Granny’s in a foul mood. Killian had no such option. She wanted to tell him to stop pacing but fancied having a neck still intact. “Emma will be here soon,” she attempted to console, voice mousy, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible.

The newborn growled back at her. _Well excuse you_ , she drawled to herself. True to her word, Emma was quick in arriving after sunset; Sabryna didn’t want to think about how much longer she would have lasted on her own. With her, Emma had brought a carton of donor blood and a six pack of Tru Blood, O negative. Killian’s face grew hard and sharp, his eyes darkening with an even deeper menacing thirst, fangs dropped, all in the space of a moment. The sheriff lurched back as the vampire snatched the donor blood off her, moving too quickly for the human eye to fully comprehend, and had to fight all her natural instincts not to draw the loaded gun from her belt. It was still Killian, but new vampires were always highly unpredictable.

However, having torn the corner off the clear plastic carton, Killian was downing the blood like mother’s milk, pacified, if only for a short while. Casting a wary glance over at the vampire, Emma stepped towards Sabryna, “Are you okay?”

Placing a hand on her lower back, Sabryna let out a long breath, “Yeah. I’ll take those,” she carried the Tru blood and set it down on her small dining table.

Not a drop of blood split, Killian gave a sigh of relief. He retracted his fangs, easily now, and a human-like softness returned to him. “Thank you,” he said, sounding pleasantly and perfectly normal, and both humans started to breathe again.

“Now,” Emma began slowly, “what can you remember about the woman who turned you? I’m not wasting any time on this.”

Killian flopped back into the sofa, running a hand through his hair as he called on the hazy memories. “She had black hair, darker skin, possibly a Native American or of that descent, fairly tall, I suppose.”

“She didn’t tell you her name?” Sabryna probed softly.

Killian shook his head, “No, I have no idea. She was gone by the time I got out of the ground.”

“We’ll send out parties and alert the authorities of the nearby towns,” Emma asserted firmly. “I’ll see if we can get a sketch artist in.”

“And what will that achieve?” Killian countered. “She’s probably old enough to kill anyone that comes near her and even if you do track her down, what could you possibly do?”

“It is against the law for vampires to turn unwilling humans,” Emma said, trying to skip around the holes in her plan.

“As is human on vampire violence.”

“Not in cases of self-defence or if provoked,” the sheriff was steadfast in her knowledge of the new vampire laws. “We don’t go out looking for vampires to fight with; we respond to emergencies and only engage in violence if necessary. This would be no different if someone human had attacked you.”

“That may be true but any vampire authorities out there won’t care that one poor sod got turned against his will. I doubt they even see it as a crime and only accepted it as a bargaining chip for the sake of their damn campaigns. Give it up, Swan, there’s nothing we can do,” Killian snapped yet it was half hearted with the way he slumped.

“You know that’s not going to happen,” Emma folded her arms across her chest, pacing around the room with her mind at work.

“But she didn’t just turn you,” Sabryna interjected; “She and her progeny, and whoever else, had already killed two people and were fully intending to kill three more. We can still alert other stations nearby and have them tracked down. Vampire on human violence is worse if it gets out – you know the press will cling to anything. I think a vampire authority would take that a bit more seriously if they want to keep their chances of winning rights.”

“But we have no contact with any vampire authorities. I don’t even know how their systems work,” Killian grumbled, his frustration growing by leaps and bounds.

“We could ask the vampires at that Neverland bar?” the younger woman suggested. “That woman I met – Tink – she’s connected to the owner,” she looked to Emma, hoping to jog her memory and gain her support for the idea, “Felix is her Maker, and Felix is the progeny of the owner. His name is Peter, I think.”

“Couldn’t hurt to try,” Emma shrugged agreeably. Her eyes followed her second lieutenant as she perched on the sofa arm, hoisting her left leg up on the seat and rested her forearm on her thigh. “But in the meantime, I’ll alert the other stations and we’ll keep an eye out for whoever this woman is in case she comes back. And I’ll have to tell the others in the morning.”

Grounding in his jaw, Killian’s feet rocked back and forth, “Fine,” he grudgingly acquiesced.

“What did they think about the vampire bar?” Sabryna asked.

“So far, it looks good,” Emma nodded, grateful for the smidgen of good news. “Most of them said they’d go have a look themselves at some point. Just in case we caught a lucky night. Right, I’m heading down to Granny’s, will you be coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll follow in a bit,” she said with a brief nod.

The sheriff made her way towards the door. “It’ll work out somehow,” she looked back at Killian over her shoulder with a half-smile, and fought back the natural reaction of turning one’s back on a vampire, before slipping away. They listened to her footsteps receding.

Alone again with her partner, Sabryna felt like it was her first day on the job. Aimless and confused, she wondered how anyone was meant to deal with a situation like this. _How do all those other people do it?_

She and Killian had been joined at the hip for over five years, but now, she had no idea how to handle herself around him, and wondered at the same time if he saw her in the same way at all. In all the times vampires had been physically close to her before in their scraps and skirmishes, she’d never found herself in a situation that could be called _intimate_. Save perhaps Tink, but she had appeared so _not_ vampiric in the time they’d spent together.

“What’s on your mind?” Killian requested, low, almost hesitant to hear her answer.

“I,” she bowed her head, bringing chin to chest, and threaded her fingers through her dark roots, “I don’t really know.” She tugged a little at the hem of her loose hoodie, running her thumbs along the fabric. There was too much and too little in her mind all at once, so that she couldn’t pick a single thread of thought to say aloud. What could any person be thinking if someone dear to them had been turned vampire?

“You’re uneasy,” Killian stated, eyes fixed on the side of her face, lingering on the soft contour of her jaw. “I can smell it on you.” And it didn’t smell half bad.

“I’m still exhausted, I know that much,” Sabryna muttered, gaze kept on the floor as she remained crouched over. “I’ve thought of a hundred worst case scenarios to prepare for, but for some reason I never thought this would happen.”

“It was always something that could happen,” Killian reminded, trying not to dwell on the traumatic memories of that night not long gone. Time had stretched beyond its limits when all he could think about was tearing flesh and hot sticky blood. “I don’t think I should be around people,” he said after an interval of silence.

At last Sabryna raised her head and looked at him, “What?” A sickly wave of nerves pierced her in the heart, spreading like ice through the network of veins.

“The last thing this town needs is a newborn vampire running around the place. I’m going to go to that vampire place you were talking about; I need to be around other vampires,” he elaborated, scared of the growing darkness in him, scared of the excitement and desire that was igniting at thoughts of the carnage he could now inflict. He had to leave before it was too late. Before the voice of his humanity was drowned out by the blood of slaughtered innocents.

“But… but,” _I need you_ , she so wanted to say, “the department needs you,” she opted for instead. “You’re Emma’s first lieutenant. The town needs you.”

“And now I’m a vampire,” his voice took a sharp turn, much like how Tink’s had done when Sabryna had struck a nerve. “Things have changed, and they’re not going to change back.”

“I don’t want you to go,” it was a child’s voice that left her, neither the charming waitress nor the dauntless lieutenant, or anything in-between. Internally growling, she tossed her head away. The last thing she’d meant for was to sound so helplessly delicate and needy.

Before she could blink again Killian was in front of her, and she almost lost her balance and fell from her perched seat on the sofa arm. “I know,” he spoke softly, and lifted a hand to cup her cheek. It wasn’t ice cold, or cold at all, as she had expected, warmed by the blood. The touch was far from gentle, his strength still growing from the transformation but it was not yet on the threshold of painful. “But I have to learn what it means to be a vampire and I won’t be able to do that here. I don’t think I’d ever be able to forgive myself if I lost control, especially with you. And we both know how easily that could happen.” The cold truth of it terrified every human trace left within, and made him want to leave all the more – those parts of him couldn’t bear the thought of becoming a monster who felt no remorse, not even for those who had been his friends. The other sides, the ones that had only grown more powerful, had already become the monster. “I’ll come back,” he promised her, then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She wanted to beg him for a promise but supressed the childlike desperation, and alternatively sent a silent plea to return him to her, one day. Not wishing to draw out the farewells, Killian bit down his sorrow and vanished in the blink of an eye. Sabryna felt the cold rush of air prickle her skin, and realised she was now completely alone.

Shattering, she began to cry.

* * *

 Dozens of miles away from Storybrooke, an upturned car was strewn across a thicket, battered and smoking, driverless. The parallel road was scuffed with swerving tire marks. There had been quite the commotion, with no one there to see.

A cold woman cradled, almost lovingly, the body of the unlucky driver, scarcely grasping the frayed strings of life, darkness swimming about their eyes. The blood smeared over her mouth, barbaric and beautiful, had begun to dry as she looked down on her chosen one. This one would be loved.

“What have you done?” the victim whispered so quietly that they could barely hear themselves, the threads of life snapping one by one.

“Hush,” she stroked the side of his face, the word husky and honeyed at once, “I’m bringing balance back to our world. And here I give you the greatest gift that can ever be given.” A nail dug into her own neck, slicing the skin with perfect precision and her lifeless blood flowered. “We will be one. Drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. If you liked it, please leave me a comment/kudos, would be much appreciated :) The song used was 'Swamp of the World' by Visionatica. 
> 
> I promise Peter is in the next chapter and after that we'll be seeing a lot more of him!
> 
> As always, song suggestions are welcome.


	4. Peter

_The pain that grips you_  
_The fear that binds you_  
_Releases life in me_  
_In our mutual_  
_Shame we hide our eyes_  
_To blind them from the truth_  
_That finds a way from who we are_

 _Lying beside you_  
_Listening to you breathe_  
_The life that flows inside of you_  
_Burns inside of me_

 _Cast me not away_  
_Say you'll be with me_  
_For I know I cannot_  
_Bear it all alone_

 _Understanding_  ~ Evanescence

 

Peter was both nothing and everything like Killian had expected.

It had been Felix standing by the door that night, just another hauntingly beautiful lover of death, and Killian had explained his predicament upon questioning, and Felix had agreed to arrange a meeting with Peter after the bar quietened down. Left with a few hours to kill, the newborn decided he might as well spend them there. Upon entering he was almost knocked off his feet by the scents and aromas that struck him in a tidal wave. So many beating hearts, hot pulsing blood mixed with sweat, lust and fear. Young bodies were grinding on the dancefloor, professional dancers writhing on their poles while music thrummed like low thunder. Gods, he wanted to eat someone.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” a soft accented voice said from behind him, causing him to turn and see the petite vampire it had come from.

The left side of Killian’s mouth quirked charmingly, “No, but you might be seeing me here a lot with any luck. I have business with the owner.”

“With Peter? You’ve come to see Peter?” the woman’s eyebrows raised about an inch on her face, voice heightening by about half an octave. “If you’re here to offer yourself up, you’ve wasted your time. He’s with someone right now. Though I’m sure you’d have luck on another night.” The flash of longing, even resentment, couldn’t be missed on her features.

“No, I’m not here to _offer myself up_ ,” Killian answered with animosity in a sneer.

“Then why?” she adopted a harshness to match, her features sharpening the exact way his now did, but she was still dominated by a genuine curiosity than in challenging him.

“What’s it to you?” the taller vampire demanded, folding his arms, his weight moving predominantly into his right leg. Behind his gums the fangs ached to drop. Even if his hunger hadn’t returned, the atmosphere was doing nothing for his restraint without the interrogation from a vampire who could have been anyone.

“I share blood with Peter,” she told him with a clear note a pride and, seeing the unmistakable confusion on Killian’s face, continued with a sigh, “You’re a new vampire, aren’t you?”

“How could you guess?” Killian’s humoured tone dulled itself with a bitter edge.

The woman’s face softened with what was probably sympathy, a glint of nurturing crossing her mossy green eyes, and she gestured for them to take seats at the bar, continuing when they were comfortably seated, “When a vampire shares blood with another it means we’re in the same line of Makers and progenies. Felix is my Maker and Peter is Felix’s Maker, which makes me part of Peter’s line. So, we share blood. I’m Tink, by the way.”

So _this_ was the vampire Sabryna had mentioned. He had an odd feeling about her, not a bad one, like he had no idea what to expect of her when all he had was her name and yet everything about her seemed to just…fit in place. It was clear why Sabryna had raised her name for help – despite the dark, dangerous beauty that nearly all vampires possessed, she had the look of a fairytale being on the surface of her skin, concealing perfectly the terrifying creature beneath.

“I’m positively jealous – I don’t even know my Maker’s name. She was gone before I woke up,” the least he expected was another glance of sympathy or surprise; what he got was a look of cold horror. “What did I say?”

“She…she left you? Just like that?”

“Am I missing something again?”

“Abandoning a newly turned vampire is like leaving a baby on the doorstep, of an empty house,” Tink all but exclaimed, though its emphasis was significantly overshadowed by the music, the quiet sounds of the humans, and the purring growls of the vampires. “You’ve not even learnt how to feed, have you?”

“Nope, not a thing,” he admitted with an aloof shrug of the shoulders. “It’s sort of why I came here.”

Tink nodded agreeably and Killian knew in that moment he had an ally in her. “I’ll put in a good word for you,” she confirmed, everything about her earnest and almost protective, like she’d already decided to take and keep him under her wing.

But as he watched her eyes scour the room, the dark demoness prowling inside reared her elegant head, and he grinned. With a blissful sigh, Tink’s perfect lips parted, fangs dropping. They were about half an inch long with a silvery shimmer to them as though made from a precious stone, with a sharpness that only seemed to promise pain and suffering. There was a brief moment to wonder if that was what Sabryna had seen in him. Where she had withdrawn with fear and alarm, Killian found himself enraptured, pulled in, and before he knew it his own fangs had descended.

“Shall we find you someone to eat?” Tink purred devilishly.

* * *

 

In Peter’s private office, Killian no longer felt like an indomitable creature of darkness but rather a pink-cheeked schoolboy who’d been sent to the headmaster with his tail between his legs. The owner of Neverland lounged in a plush leather chair, feet up on the desk, shoulders wide and relaxed, fingers interlocked over a tight stomach. Tink and Felix were also present, cold and silent in the presence of their elder. A fool might have underestimated Peter for his look of youth, besides from his eyes, which held centuries and centuries of, well, almost anything. Wisdom, power, darkness, but not remorse. Nothing soft. Killian was no fool though. In all his time with the police he’d never seen a vampire even remotely like the one before him now.

“So you have no idea who your Maker is?” Peter reiterated after a series of previous questions about why Killian had come to him and the circumstance of his transformation. Perhaps wisely, Killian had left out the part where he was a vampire hunter; he doubted it would have met with much approval.

“No,” Killian answered obediently. “But I’d know her if I saw her.”

“What did she look like?” Felix asked from the corner of the room, sat comfortably in an armchair.

Killian repeated the description he’d relayed to Emma and Sabryna several hours before, and again that night his expectations were defied. Tink and Felix looked straight at each other; if they’d had pumping blood it would have drained from their cheeks. Peter furrowed his brows, face like stone, unreadable, and Killian feared he’d said something that would cost him but refused to let the uncertainty show, and it was far easier to hide behind the face of a vampire.

“I see,” Peter said calmly, and when Killian demanded what Peter had left out, the ancient vampire delicately raised an eyebrow, imperious, and that was enough to shut Killian up. “It would seem we share blood.”

“ _What?_ ” Killian couldn’t stop himself, jaw falling. His Maker must have been connected to or part of Peter’s nest. Maybe she was out there, somewhere…

“Your Maker, if you’ve described who we think you have, dear boy, is my progeny,” Peter glanced back to Felix. “Well, one of them. She hasn’t stayed _quite_ as close to me.”

A hundred questions were ready to burst from Killian’s throat but a single look from Peter rendered him mute. The older vampire reclined into deep thought, silence prolonging. With no idea of what he was supposed to do or if he’d found a place in Peter’s clan, Killian almost bristled with unease. The silence was broken by Tink getting to her feet, the fairy-like appearance back in place, and she was nearly endearingly awkward as she spoke, “I’ll show you were we sleep.”

It drearily settled upon him that he was now the omega of the pack, the runt of the litter as he followed Tink to be put to bed. Once the door had closed after the two younger vampires, Felix rose slowly to his feet and paced round until he stood before his Maker, the large desk between them. Peter had moved, bringing his legs down and propping his elbows on the surface, ready to catch his head.

“It looks like she’s found a replacement for Reaver. Didn’t take her long,” the blonde-haired man said, voice low. He sought out Peter’s eyes, looking deep into those emerald pools when Peter unwaveringly met his gaze. “I know you felt it.”

“Of course I did,” Peter murmured sharply, downcast and solemn. “I was with him the night he was made. I remember I lay with them both.”

Felix could see the memories playing like a roll of film behind Peter’s eyes. Seeing his Maker like this was deeply unsettling for him.

“You should go to ground, Felix,” Peter said, running a hand through his hair. “I need to have a little chat with Aaya.”

* * *

 

Emma had become Sabryna’s new partner, the decision made a few days after Killian’s departure, and correspondingly David had taken a form of leave in order to begin Henry’s induction and early training. Neither of his mothers were particularly thrilled at their son’s ambition to join the police force during such times but weren’t going to stand in his way – he’d inherited a good deal of stubbornness and determination from both of them – and, to avoid becoming too emotionally involved Emma, had requested that David train the boy rather than doing it herself. Sabryna remembered her days of training, mostly at the responsibility of Killian, where their bond had strengthened, and partly in Emma’s charge. A nasty voice in her head that she didn’t recognise as her own nudged her with whispers, taunting that Henry would soon outrank her and probably surpass her abilities in no time.

She didn’t want to think like that, but the unfriendly voice was there all the same. An alarm that couldn’t ever be switched off, no matter how many times the snooze button was pounded on.  

They had been lucky enough to have no unfriendly vampires come near Storybrooke, that they knew of.

A few days following that, a missing person’s report was filed. Perhaps biased, they jumped to the conclusion of a vampire culprit. Who else would come to the sleepy town of Storybrooke to kidnap someone? And the town wasn’t large enough, or corrupt enough, for someone from within to capture another resident and have a hope of getting away with it. Naturally, both Emma and Sabryna had thought of Killian’s new Maker, perhaps out of distrustful paranoia or possibly because she was already their lead vampire suspect. True to her word, as always, Emma had alerted the nearby towns, and on each of their routine patrols they remained watchful for that one face. Finding a sketch artist had fallen through without Killian to give his description. Not two days later, another person went missing. Not a trace had been left behind.

It was coming up to six o’clock in the evening. Sabryna faced herself in the bathroom mirror, a piled pack of untouched antidepressants in the corner of the shelf, gathering layer upon layer of dust and underneath in the cupboard were probably enough pills to kill a handful of grown adults. Painkillers, medications, supplements, they all remained hidden and untouched. There was particular dislike for the face she was looking at that evening. Parts of her skin tone were uneven with no makeup to cover it and she could easily pick out pores and old acne scars on her cheeks that hadn’t completely faded from her painful adolescent years. She had slimmed out naturally from about the age of fifteen after gaining a little puppy fat from the initial blows of puberty, and the persistent workouts that came with a job on the force had maintained a healthy enough physique, but she was never quite comfortable in her own skin, always finding more flaws and imperfections.

Taking off her hoodie, hazel eyes fell on the almost undetectable scars on her arms, which she could always see.

Some were results from scraps on the job, some weren’t. She could always tell the difference. She looked back into her own eyes, her lips parting to murmur the song that had just begun playing through her turned up speakers.

“ _I try to make it through my life, in my way, there's you_

_I try to make it through these lies, and that's all I do_

 

_Just don't deny it,_

_Don't try to fight this, and deal with it_

_And that's just part of it_

_If you were dead or still alive_

_I don't care, I don't care_

_Just go and leave this all behind_

_Cause I swear, I swear, I don't care_

A crack in her voice silenced her. Her face was even uglier as it began to scrunch up, tensing with the effort of holding back, she disdainfully decided. Scorn descended as she thought how on some days she had liked the face looking back at her; it was incomprehensible in that moment. And hardly the first time it had happened.

A growing disconnection to everything and everyone around her, less and less to hold onto. Thinking of things that would have snatched up her emotions before now left her just as hollow and miserable.

Violently, Sabryna drew back and essentially bolted into her bedroom. Her mask needed to be put on. Beginning with her war paint, she covered up the redness on her otherwise pale face before decorating her eyes with a blur of sapphire and silver and thin lines of black, and made herself smile. A blue heart and a doll-face. It was time to lock up.

The mask was perfectly in place as Sabryna arrived at Granny’s for her evening shift. Things were nice and busy. _Good_ , she had instantly decided. There’d be lots to do. She swept through to the back room to put her things away and double check her doll-face wasn’t slipping, putting her mind into power-down mode. Emerging back into the diner, she found her eyes drawn to the corner booth, where Granny was sitting with her head in her hands, a large drink on the table, almost finished.

Cursing worriedly, Sabryna flocked to the old woman, “Are you all right?” she braced her palms delicately on the table surface, leaning over slightly.

“It’s Ruby,” Granny sniffled, sitting up. “She didn’t come home last night, and she’s not answering her phone.”

“Shit,” she sighed out.

“She and her friend went to that vampire bar,” the old lady said with no small trace of disdain. “And neither of them have come home.”

“Have you told Emma?” Sabryna asked, swallowing a lump. The mask unhinged. Four people. Four people now were missing. The station was stretched enough in keeping vampires away and other matters, now they had to investigate four missing persons who could have been anywhere. These sort of things had become almost an anomaly; they were much less of a police force now and more of a hunter’s guild.

“Yes, earlier today. But nothing will come of it,” Granny gulped down the last of her drink. “All the reports say that you lot have found no leads for any of them.”

“I’ll call Killian later and have a look round Neverland, see if I can find something. We haven’t looked there yet,” Sabryna offered, voice more like a declarative. But the touch she put on Granny’s arm was warm and reassuring.

After that she left Granny to herself and went to tend the unmanned bar. She would do this alone and she swore to herself that she would get something right out of it. At the very least she’d know that she tried. No one would be commanding or overshadowing her. Killian was no longer her partner, and she had not heard a word from him since he left. Having always worked with a partner, the young woman was desperate to prove, most importantly to herself, that she could do something alone. Already she’d planned to drop by the station and collect pictures of all the missing people, not just Ruby and her friend, Taylor, before she called Killian. With any luck he could pick her up and she could show Tink the pictures and go from there. She repeated the plan relentlessly in her head.

“Are you sure you should go by yourself?” Henry asked, coming to the bar after delivering a family their dinners.

With a sharp blink, Sabryna turned her head, eyes hardened at the intrusion. “If you think I’m taking you, you can think again,” she said warningly.

“I didn’t mean me, necessarily,” Henry shrugged. “But maybe David or Mary-Margret? It might not be safe on your own.”

Sabryna wiped down the bar with growing frustrated energy. “I don’t need to be mollycoddled,” she snapped, hating how Henry could know all the things she refused to let people see. He could get in without being invited.

“It’s just, I know you’ve been through a lot,” Henry said good-naturedly, trying not to rile her anymore. The angry thoughts in her head were like whiplashes on his conscience. _I can look after myself_ , she told him silently. “I know you can,” he said more quietly. “You don’t need to wear a mask with me, you know that don’t you?”

“Why? I do with everyone else,” Sabryna muttered, running a hand exhaustedly through her hair as her posture slumped. “I’m not sure I even know how anymore.” The mask could slip, even be ripped off, but she had no idea of how to remove it willingly.

“When was the last time you saw Dr Hopper?” Henry asked carefully, knowing he’d cast off into waters of unspoken truths.

But Sabryna only shrugged, “About eleven months ago.”

“Maybe you should go back,” Henry said predictably. “If it’s been getting a lot worse again.”

His reply was a grunt of disillusion. Sabryna remembered her first session with Dr Hopper and the way he’d noted down some of her issues – and how she’d read his writing upside-down. Trust issues, low self-esteem, fear of failure, issues with approval, self-destructive tendencies… _blah, blah, snore_ , she added mentally. She imagined if she had another evaluation she’d spy the same things being written down, plus more. The last thing she needed was more reminders of how much was wrong with her.

“Just promise you’ll think about it?” Henry said softly.

With a lengthy exhale, she agreed and when Henry went back to work, she invoked her spirit for strength, the ability to reach into herself and pull out her deepest resolve.

Not two minutes later, she was the perfect image of a doll, smiles and charm again, practically dancing through the diner as she served her customers, managing to please everyone all at once. And yet nothing stopped hurting. The muscles of her face were starting to ache and was torn between making a hot chocolate or a strong screwdrivers for herself. _Hot chocolate first_ , she decided, _then I’ll hit the vodka_. It was coming up to ten o’clock, the diner was quiet. Granny had gone up to bed early. Sabryna envied her but couldn’t blame her. After making her hot chocolate with marshmallows and cream, she took her phone from her pocket, deciding to text Killian instead, not sure she had the nerves for a call. Thinking of hearing his voice in her ear made it become impossible.

 _Hey, would you mind picking me up from the station at 12:15?_ She left out the usual x’s she might have used for a social call. Her nerves juddered as she pressed the send button.

Maybe she should have gone straight to the vodka.

Her doll-face had gradually turned to granite, pretty lips and shimmery eyes made like crystal. She put her phone of the counter, eyes flickering to and fro from the screen every few seconds, both eager and dreading for it to light up. Reaching for a little spoon, she scooped out some of the cream and a couple of marshmallows from her favourite diner mug, and just as she swallowed her phone buzzed. Stomach dropping, Sabryna picked it up.

_Can do. Is something wrong?_

Sabryna immediately texted back. _People have been disappearing. Ruby vanished last night. Did you see her at Neverland?_

She took a big sip of her hot chocolate, wondering if she’d have time to pop back home and change on the way to Neverland. The station would still be open. After the growing vampire attacks within the first few months of the revelation, the station was open all hours and had employed a significant number of people to work the early hours, take the calls, manage paperwork and things like that. She hadn’t spent a full day at a time sat behind a desk since she joined the police, that kind of job would have bored her to tears, and then to death.

Her phone vibrated again.

_I did. She brought Taylor with her. I’ll meet you outside the station._

Sabryna locked her phone and slipped it back in her pocket, turning her attention back to her hot chocolate. If Granny had still be down in the diner, Sabryna would have told her straight away that Killian had seen Ruby if it meant giving her a flicker of hope, however she had no desire to intrude and disturb the poor woman. So she directed the information to Henry instead. “Killian saw Ruby last night with her friend Taylor,” she said having caught his eye.

“Is Killian alright?” the younger asked.

“I assume so,” Sabryna shrugged, a sorrowful weight settling in the pit of her stomach. “That was the first time I’ve spoken to him since he left. Nothing to write home about.” And with that she downed the rest of her cocoa and set about making a cocktail, pausing to clear a few plates away and sort out a bill for some customers before walking them to the door and bidding them goodnight. “Want me to make you one?” she offered to Henry.

“No, thanks,” his answer didn’t surprise her; he wasn’t much of a drinker, and, to be fair, he wasn’t twenty-one yet. Sabryna often forgot this fact as the legal drinking age of her birth country was eighteen. The bell curve of her own taste for alcohol had made its rather dramatic upward spike at the age of nineteen. There’d been a whole session with Dr Hopper taken up with that subject. _God_ that’d been a long hour. Ironically she’d just wanted to go home and drink herself until she was all floaty and passed out on her sofa with something funny on the TV.

She’d always stayed sober on the job, though. She refused to fall that far.

The last hour and a half was nice and quiet, soothing for both Sabryna’s and Henry’s minds. “Do you want me to walk you to the station?” Henry offered, and when she looked at him there was an unmistakable vulnerability bleeding through the cracks of her mask. She pressed her lips together and nodded in a way that made her look years younger.

She steeled against more vodka and made herself another hot chocolate instead, this time with even more marshmallows. As the clock drew up to midnight, the diner was long empty and it took only a few minutes to close up. Doubling checking her phone before she stepped out, Sabryna did up her light jacket and, ever the gentleman he had long grown into, Henry held the door for her. Thankfully smiling at him, Sabryna slipped her arm through his and they set off towards the station, making quiet chat about work and reminiscing over funny anecdotes at the diner, and though it wasn’t cold at all the two of them held close.

It had just gone ten past when they arrived to the brightly lit station. Glancing over at the windows, Sabryna wondered who was working that night, before reluctantly letting her arm fall from Henry’s. He followed her inside, catching a light whiff of leather on the air, a new wave of thoughts entering his mind, voices that were fearful, stiff, contemplative or angered, or mixes of all. It was a very stark contrast to the atmosphere of the daytime, he noted.

 _Maybe I should take a revolver with me,_ Henry heard Sabryna think, alerted more by the tone of her mind’s voice. _Might not be the best idea with where I’m going. This is a diplomatic errand._ Henry breathed a silent sigh of relief. 

“Evening,” Sabryna said as they entered the main room to whomever happened to be present.

“Evening,” it was Mary-Margret who replied in the same formal voice answered before looking up, “Oh, hi Henry. What are you guys doing here?”

“I need copies of the pictures of all the missing persons, if that’s all right. Killian is taking me up to Neverland; I’m gonna see if anyone knows anything,” the younger explained evenly.

“Sure, hang on a moment,” Mary-Margret wheeled over to the desk behind her and picked out the file on the recent disappearances. “Is it just you and Killian going?”

“Yeah, he’s driving down to pick me up. Don’t worry, Killian is still, well, Killian,” she said coolly, observing the expression on the other woman’s face.

“You’re right,” Mary-Margret shook her head, pulling out the four pictures. Hunters didn’t need to tell each other to be careful or fret over their safety. They were trained to handle themselves with impeccable refinement and have their instincts honed to a knife’s edge. They were always careful. “Here we go.”

“Cheers,” Sabryna slipped the hand-sized photos into her bag. “Okay, well, Killian should be here in a minute so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“All right, I hope you find something,” Mary-Margret gave a soft smile, glancing to Henry, “Do you want me to give you a lift home?”

“Yeah, that’d be great thanks. I’ll just go wait with Sabryna ‘til Killian gets here,” he replied warmly before heading back outside with Sabryna.

“Thanks for coming with me,” her voice was smaller than it had been inside. She looked younger again.

“Don’t worry about it,” Henry slung his arm over her shoulders. Close like this, the height difference was magnified and it was easy to tuck the girl in close. There were only a few inches between them but Sabryna felt perfectly petite, and happily let her head rest on his shoulder.

The peace of the moment was perfect. No cars were going past, the air was cool enough to be relaxing without causing a chill, while the night was cloudless, allowing the stars to twinkle down to the earth.

All but a minute later, Sabryna spotted the headlights of Killian’s car, lifting her head, preparing silently. “You should go back inside now,” she said quietly with a small smile that tensed her features.

“Okay. I hope you can find something,” Henry said equally quietly, moving to cup the back of her head and lowered his lips to her forehead, pursing them in the softest of kisses. He gave a fleeting smile before heading back into the safety of the station.

She gave a final glance back over her shoulder, hands fisting in the jacket pockets, palms already cold, as Killian pulled up in front of her. Gulping thickly, Sabryna waited a moment for the wave of nausea to pass before ducking into the passenger seat. “Can we stop by my place first?” she asked timidly.

Killian uttered a small sigh, “Sure.”

Once they’d arrived outside her flat, having driven in a silence that Sabryna knew she’d probably taken too personally, Killian told her he’d wait in the car so she climbed the stairs alone. Barely through her bedroom door, she began shedding the clothes that had grown heavier through the evening, tossing them onto the back of the chair that sat at her vanity table and dropped her underwear into the laundry basket. _I need to do a wash soon, this is getting ridiculous._

She sifted through her underwear draw, first picking out a favourite pair of knickers for a little quiet confidence, then chose a snug pair of jeggings and lilac tank top with soft ruffles dancing across the chest to don. Lastly, she refined her make-up and brushed her hair quickly, leaving it in loose waves, still with a pleasant shine, before pulling on a pair of boots that reached her higher calf and nabbed her leather jacket on the way out, bag ready and in hand.

A smirk was across Killian’s lips when Sabryna got back in the car. Her nerves instantly jumped, sharpening at the same time, the wave of nausea hitting again. It was harder to keep down. “What?” she didn’t like the way he looked her up and down, installing a sense of dread that left a crippling tightness in the back of her throat.

“If you weren’t coming with me they’d eat you alive in there,” he grinned wolfishly.

“Great, I can’t hear that enough,” the young woman sighed, voice laced with a tired sarcasm. But a small dose of relief hit a moment later when she risked a glance; Killian’s face softened into that grin she knew so well. “So, have you been all right?” Sabryna asked, still slow with apprehension.

“Surprisingly so, actually. Peter is a far greater mentor than I could have hoped for. He’s taught me how to feed, to glamour, ways to control my impulses, should I need to,” Killian said, glancing between her and the road.

“Sounds like they’re taking good care of you.”

“What is it, Sabryna?”

Letting out a breath, she realised how close her shoulders were to her ears, and took a moment to relax them the way she had practiced when she’d tried yoga for a period of time, already aware that her innate anxieties had already run away with her. “You will come back though, right? I mean, eventually?”

“Sabryna, my world has just opened up by a thousand times. If that happened to you, would you honestly return back to your old life straight away?” he said, and she didn’t like the seriousness of his tone. Or how he kept using her name. “If you could let go of the life you lead for something better, would you really go back? Fighting for survival? Not thinking ahead into the next week because you could be in hospital, or worse. Being constantly afraid that you or the people you care about aren’t safe?” Killian continued.

“That’s why we do what we do,” Sabryna countered, “If we didn’t, who would? And if no one did then we’d all be as good as sitting ducks. We…we still need you.” _I still need you._

Not answering straight away, the new vampire reached out and touched the back of her hand, so as not to spook her, and carefully wrapped his fingers around it. Her head turned sharply, and was once again surprised at the temperature of his skin. Lukewarm, not icy.

“You’re twenty-one years old. You should be chasing your dreams – studying, taking an apprenticeship, travelling the world, anything you want to do. But where are you? You’ve settled down in Storybrooke and put your life on the line almost every day, before you’ve even lived a life for yourself. Would you really be Emma’s lieutenant this soon, or at all, if things were different?”

Suddenly at loss for breath, Sabryna was taken aback, bones slumping with the weight of what she’d just heard. “There are far worse things in the world,” she said calmly, if not a little forlornly as if resigned to her unhappy life. “You could spend forever wondering what could have happened if something along the way went differently, but things are the way they are. So there’s no point getting melancholic in what _might_ have happened.” _Take your own advice hypocrite._

“But do things have to be this way? There’s nothing to stop you from giving up that job and doing something purely because it makes you happy,” Killian said softly, and for a moment she forgot entirely she was driving with a vampire, one of the most lethal creatures to ever exist. Just as before, when she looked at him she saw nothing but her dearest friend and partner.

“I’ve never been what you call a hedonist,” it was strange physically having to say the words to him of all people; Sabryna sighed. “I’d still feel like I was violating Camilla’s memory, and my parents’ if I didn’t do _this_. I’m not sure I could face the guilt,” she muttered, the light in her eyes going dim. “I don’t know what I’d be without this.”

They’d talked at length before about why she’d pursued a premature career with the Sheriff’s Department and been able to climb so high so quickly; Killian knew full well that the weight of guilt made her close to buckling on many occasions, as if she blamed herself for not saving her family, when she believed so firmly that she could have at least saved Camilla. It had been a night at the diner, over the bar, when she’d told him her side of it all for the first time. She hadn’t been working that night and they were both relatively drunk, muttering to each other in their native accents – as well as commenting on their wardrobes, people also brought light to the way they spoke, particularly to each other. Pity they could never get drunk together again.

“Just let me do my job tonight. I’ll contemplate my life choices when I’m less knackered, and preferably completely twatted,”

“Understood,” Killian uttered with a reassuring nod.

The brief ease of relief was quick to dissipate in the long interval of silence that pulled apart the cracks. Sabryna looked out the window at the lights going by, went over the conversation at least thrice, picking a different point each time to fixate on.

There was a healthy throng of people in the carpark of Neverland when they drove up, lingering by the lit walls, not too far from the door. Sabryna spotted Tink and sparked with a flicker or girlish excitement that was probably an anxious response to a familiar face. Tink waved, catching sight of Killian’s car as it pulled up in the line of spaces marked out with sprayed pain nearest to the entrance, after checking the ID’s of two new customers.

“I wasn’t sure I’d see you again,” the blonde vampire grinned widely at the approaching human. “I’m glad you came back.”

Sabryna’s mind reacted with a whiplash as though brutally struck, knocking all sentient thoughts and social adeptness fall right out of her head. “I, er, was wondering if you could help me with something,” she forced out. _Good going, pillock._

Tink’s lightly coloured eyebrows furrowed together in a delicate crease. “Oh? What is it?”

Slipping a hand into her bag, Sabryna felt for the missing persons’ pictures, trying not to crumple them. “People have been going missing in Storybrooke,” she said while doing so. “Two of them were seen here last night and neither one came home, and we’ve not been able to contact either of them since they left yesterday evening. Do you recognise any of these people?” Sabryna fanned out the photos in her small hands so that Tink could see each of them clearly. Her sudden business-like demeanour caught Tink off guard but the petite vampire took the photographs, looking over each of them in turn.

“These two I saw; they were here last night,” Tink handed back the photos of Ruby and her friend, Taylor, looking to Killian for corroboration, “We both saw them. Not these other two, though, I’m sorry. If it helps nothing seemed out of the ordinary while they were here.”

Sabryna nodded solemnly. “Do you remember who they were hanging around with, or if they left with anyone?”

“You should bring this to Peter,” Tink said, handing the other two pictures back to Sabryna. “He was less…preoccupied last night. Come inside.”

Sharing a fleeting but nervous glance with Killian, Sabryna followed Tink into Neverland, unsure if she was more unnerved by her own apprehension or the faltering of her partner. Killian and his confidence did _not_ falter just for anyone. They followed Tink through the club, people casually making way for them, knowing where they were headed. _Breathe, just breathe,_ Sabryna repeated to herself. _Do not fuck this up. If there was ever a time not to make an idiot of yourself, this would be it._  

The way then cleared, and that was when she saw him.

Reclining on a long sofa of deep verdite velvet was a young man, barely into his twenties but the grace and power of a god-King was woven into his existence. Dressed in a delectable black suit, his eyes wandered lazily over his establishment, sinfully so, the ghost of a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips. Every base instinct, every scrap of amalgamated prey-predator nature, screamed to turn and run, while something else sunk in and ensnared her so completely, making an escape not only impossible but entirely obsolete. A quiet voice muttered that if she’d seen him the first time she’d visited the bar she probably never would have left until Emma had dragged her out by the hair.

The concept of leaving in his presence, although inconsequential, seemed virtually incomprehensible. _How is that possible?_ Sabryna asked with disbelief. How could one being command so much influence and enthrallment simply by existing? It shouldn’t have been real.

“Peter,” Tink spoke softly but clearly, waiting a moment before stepping up to the first step of the raised platform with dainty feet. “There’s someone here to see you.”

Peter looked bored, and Sabryna couldn’t help but take it rather personally. “I’m not in the mood tonight, Tinkerbell. Give them a free drink and send them on their way.”

“No, no. It’s not like that. This young lady has some questions about a couple of our customers,” Tink explained, her tone tinged with coyness.

Peter’s eyes, orbs of enchanting emerald finally fell on Sabryna, stealing the breath from her lungs. His mouth curved as he felt the frantic thrum of her pulse, the scent of her showering him like sweet spring rain. Unhappy, he decided instantly. Beneath the shyness and the fear, Peter could see the sorrow of this girl, who stood tensely with too much weight in the balls of her feet, the way he’d seen through thousands of mortals over thousands of years. It was striking to him. “Well, this makes a change. Who might you be, my dear?” Peter straightened, still a slight gradient in his posture, unperturbed.

“Sabryna,” the young woman made herself say, and mentally kicked herself. “I’m with the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department.”

Inclining his head, a deep purr pushed through Peter’s lips, “Hmm, I could eat you up in a pinch. Well, _Sabryna_ ,” her name rolled off his tongue like honey, and she could have sworn a knot started to form in her lower belly. “Any questions you have, you may ask of me. Please, sit.”

Not daring to refuse, Sabryna guided her untrustworthy legs up the steps of the platform, perching herself a polite distance away from Peter, much of her weight still pressed down through her legs rather than her seat-bones. When satisfied of the girl’s attention, Peter followed with a nod to Killian, who took a seat on one of the ornate wooden armed chairs adjacent to the sofa, before casting his gaze to Tink, which alone was enough to send her away like an obedient maid.

“Now, what can I help you with?” Peter asked with exquisite politeness, long fingers interlocking.

Swallowing, Sabryna called upon what professionalism would rally. She laid out the pictures in her hands like she’d done for Tink. “These people have gone missing, and two of them were here last night. It was the last place they were known to be before they disappeared. Do you recognise either of these girls?” she gestured to Ruby and Taylor’s pictures.

Peter took the photographs with hands that could have believably been sculpted from marble. “I do recognise these two, they were here last night. I can assure you no harm came to them while they were under my roof.”

“Do you know if they left alone or with anyone else? Or if they were with other people?” Sabryna probed, with a tiny part of her mind only wishing to hear more of his voice.

“That, I do not know. It’s not the sort of thing we tend to notice,” Peter replied, handing the first pair of photos back to her before taking a look at the other two. “And these two I have never seen before, my apologies.”

Silently she swore; she’d hoped that she would have gotten more out of him. But at least Ruby and Taylor were undeniably at Neverland before they disappeared. “Do you have CCTV cameras?” she asked, unable to let her investigation stop there.

Peter nodded once, and she saw the tiniest of ticks in his jaw. Perhaps she shouldn’t have asked that. “We do.”

“Do you think it’d be possible to send footage of the entrance back to us? So we can check what time they left and see if they were with anyone?” _Or if they left at all._ The firm professionalism of her tone gave way to a timid request, and she reprimanded herself harshly enough to put the lump in her throat.

Peter looked straight at her, finding her eyes as though it were innate to him, and in an instant all integrity and dignity were stolen away by the unfamiliarity, the shock of it. Something, and _everything_ about his eyes – about everything to do with him – petrified her to the bone. Whether at all or completely, he could see through her, break the mask and see the tired, pitiful girl underneath.

Sabryna had no inkling that she’d be so sure of what she firmly believed would never happen.

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” he said, his words throwing her a line from the sea of all things surreal. “In return, would you mind doing me a small favour?”

The lieutenant eyed him warily, mind deceptively cool. “Depends what it is.”

Her response elicited a small chuckle from Peter, and she quickly put the pictures away. Subsequently, Peter pulled a folded photograph from his inside pocket. “Storybrooke is rather small place, is it not? Do you happen to know this boy?”

Sabryna lost her breath.

It was of Henry.

“Why?” she asked a little too sharply. The muscles in her neck wished to direct a worried look at Killian.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not disclose my reasons at this point. Now, do you know him?” Peter repeated, a growing harshness in his voice that made all the possible voices in her mind go into a wild panic.

“I’ve seen him around. It is quite a small town,” she replied, forcing steadiness into her tone. But Peter clearly wasn’t convinced, so she caved. “He’s a waiter at a diner. Where I’m also a waitress. Most of the time.”

“Quite a special boy indeed,” the old vampire mused, taking a few moments to examine Henry’s likeness for the hundredth time.

It was not only base fear telling her to leave but now her logic and good sense. Did he know of Henry’s abilities? Is that why he’d taken an apparent interest, for quite some time judging by the state of the photo. The edges were worn, held by fingers a hundred times. The Henry in the picture looked to be a young-mid teenager, features still boyish and delicate. 

“Should you ever visit again, you might remember to let him…tag along,” his eyes sparkled in a way she didn’t like, slipping the picture back into his suit pocket. “But enough business for tonight,” Peter concluded, interlocking his fingers once more, erasing all traces of the last of their conversation. “How would you like to stay a while? The night is still young.”

Sabryna looked first to Killian, and so missed Peter’s smirk, awaiting her old partner’s verdict. Staying would feel like some sort of betrayal, not so much to her profession but to all the people she sought to protect. Something felt disrespectful, _wrong_. At the same time, a rising part of her just wished to throw caution to the wind; so little mattered to her anymore, even less could ground her. Just the tiniest snip, and she could float away…

“No one will think less of you,” Killian said, and Sabryna got the sense that it was cypher through the prism of apathy for wanting her to stay.

“All right,” Sabryna turned back to Peter before she could think again and dissuade herself.

“Excellent. Killian, would you be so kind as to fetch our lovely companion a drink,” the ancient vampire practically cooed.

Killian said as Sabryna’s eyes returned to him. “Usual?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Gotcha.”

Peter’s smirk fixed in place, serpentine eyes narrowing. So the baby vampire and the unhappy girl were close. “Tell me,” he pinched a lock of her dark hair between his fingers, keeping it still as the rest of her hair swung as she looked back to him, and reminded him of a rabbit caught in headlights. He stifled a laugh. “Are you Killian’s?”

Her eyebrows raised a fraction, “Killian’s?” she echoed, perplexed.

“Yes, are you his human?” Peter reiterated.

“I’m not anyone’s,” the sound of her voice took him by surprise. When most humans declared those words they did so with a sense of defiant dignity, and there was certainly a hint of it _there_ , but mostly, more than anything, she sounded sorrowful. Such an unhappy girl.

“I see. I would keep that to yourself,” he advised coolly.

“Why is that?”

“Because then any vampire would know they could feed from you, and you are a rather delectable little morsel,” Peter had intended to stroke her cheek but she drew back sharply, revealing something hard in her eyes. “Apologies. I did not mean it as an insult. A word of warning, should a vampire wish to feed from you and you are unwilling, then make it clear you belong to another vampire; that way they cannot feed from you.” Peter offered her his hand, a gesture of reconciliation.

“I’ll remember that.” If Peter had been human then he wouldn’t have heard that quiet voice, and cared more that she slipped her hand into his, her flesh delightfully warm and soft. Sabryna’s breath hitched in her throat; she could feel the strength lurking in his hand even though the touch was gentle and intended to be harmless. _Don’t,_ she warned herself, _it means nothing. You don’t mean anything to him. Don’t fall for it. He was more interested in Henry and he’s not even here._

Killian returned with Sabryna’s favourite cocktail, passing the glass into her free hand and returned to his seat on the other side of the human girl.

“Cheers,” she said, taking a sip, and thought about mentioning what Henry said about going back to Dr Hopper. She probably would have done if Peter wasn’t sitting right by her, holding her hand, unaware that he’d taken note of another little detail about her. Every trained ounce of sense was screaming at her to put the drink down and not touch it, to stay sharp and sober. Nonetheless Sabryna kept drinking. It was so hard to care anymore. If anything happened Killian would take her home or find her somewhere safe to sleep, and if he didn’t then…then what? Who cared?

The buzz hit her a little sooner than expected, no doubt thanks to the vodka she’d consumed at Granny’s earlier that night, and she watched the dozens of people dancing and grinding to the thrumming music, watching as couple by couple left to return home or vanished into the back rooms and yet the whole club still seemed packed with people. When she finished her first drink, Peter had Killian get her another. She expected him to get pissy and wasn’t sure whether to be just surprised or genuinely worried when Killian obeyed like a trained dog. Maybe it merely spoke volumes of Peter’s authority in this place, and it was just simpler for everyone to do as he asked.

“Fancy a dance?” Peter inquired the moment they were alone.

“No, thank you,” Sabryna shyly replied, diverting her eyes from the dancefloor to try and pick out Killian at the bar. It was harder than she thought with all the darkly dressed people, and it hit her how well Killian fitted in as a vampire.

“So, if you’re not Killian’s human, what are you to each other?” Peter questioned further, countering his inquisitiveness by rubbing tender circles on the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb.

“We were partners on the force, and the Sheriff’s lieutenants,” Sabryna said, words chosen deliberately.

Impressed, Peter straightened slightly. “Aren’t you quite young to be with the police, and climbed so high? Besides I thought you were a waitress.”

“Can’t I be both?” Sabryna offered in a quiet challenge.

The vampire tilted his head back and chuckled heartily, “Of course you can, my dear firebird. They just strike me as rather contrary professions.”

“It is what it is,” she shrugged unconcernedly, inwardly smiling like a doe eyed schoolgirl. Firebird, she liked that. Peter was satisfied with her answer, leaning back into the sofa, shoulders relaxed wide but still kept hold of her hand the whole time.

Once Killian had returned with her second drink, he and his former partner engaged in familiar small talk, the way they used to. If she just looked at his face, and ignored everything else, she could almost believe that they were back in Granny’s diner, chatting over this and that over the bar, travelling back into the past by a couple of short months. Things were not easy then, but in hindsight they seemed good. Somehow in the haze of alcohol, the company of Killian and the apparent interest of Peter, things were bearable for now. Business, that had been accomplished, didn’t feel so important anymore. Nothing did.

Somewhere along the line, perhaps while she was sipping her way through her fourth or fifth drink, and the vodka had hit her hard, a complete stranger drew towards them. Their eyes, of course, were solely on Peter, completely and utterly enthralled by the mere sight of him. If she’d seen them on the streets, Sabryna would have taken them for a completely ordinary person, but now, they looked almost deranged with awe and terror, and she knew that the rest of the world had fallen away around them. It was a man, creeping towards his middle age but by no means unattractive. Sabryna and Killian’s eyes were trained on him, curious as to what on earth would transpire, meanwhile Peter stared on easily, seemingly oblivious to this mortal’s existence. If she’d had a stronger backbone, or cared more, then Sabryna would have told Peter he was cruel. However, in reality, she could only watch.

There was certainly sympathy there, even pity, in her heart as she kept watching this man’s every step, closer and closer to Peter, as if unable to fully believe he was real, that he was this close to such an ancient and powerful being, stripped of his dignity. Sabryna wondered how many times Peter had been exhibited to this sort of behaviour in all the years he’d been alive, but she hardly doubted it was a rare occurrence, and she wondered what Henry might have heard in this man’s head if he’d been here. On second thoughts, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

His foot was barely raised up on to the first step of the platform, the next second Peter was no longer holding Sabryna’s hand. His speed made her startle back into the sofa cushions and before the breath could catch in her throat, Peter’s hand had wrapped around the stranger’s collar, forcing him helplessly onto his back. The thrum of chatter and primal noises hushed into a few whispers, all eyes falling on Peter.

“Isn’t it rude to interrupt someone when they have company?” the emerald eyed vampire’s face turned nasty in a sneer, looking the pitiful human up and down with something akin to disgust. “I would not waste five minutes on you in any case. Find another vampire to suck you off,” with that Peter shoved the man back into the floor, raising up to his full height.

Sabryna realised she hadn’t been breathing, and with relief that she hadn’t been holding a drink, as the scorned worshiper scrambled to his feet and fled from Neverland in disgrace. The whole thing appeared to be rather amusing to Peter.

“You,” Sabryna swallowed thickly, “didn’t have to do that.”

“There are many things that we don’t have to do, yet we do them anyway,” Peter leaned back leisurely, lazily running his eyes over her paled face. “Wouldn’t you want to be rid of an unwanted suitor?”

“I wouldn’t do it like that,” she answered breathlessly, still adjusting to what she’d just witnessed. Neverland was scary, but not crazy and wild, not where people could see anyway. Peter struck her as charming and sophisticated but now she’d seen another side – cruel and ghastly, completely unfeeling, a display of power. She glanced around the bar; it was as if nothing happened.

Peter must have found her reaction amusing, for the way he chuckled and relaxed fully into the sofa. Sabryna half-expectantly waited for him to take her hand again but when he kept his hands to himself, she found herself rather disappointed. She supposed Killian would draw her away soon, and the night would end just between the two of them; he would drive her home and she would collapse into bed without putting on pyjamas or taking her make-up off, without a doubt avoiding every mirror the following morning.

It didn’t go that way at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments/kudos welcome.  
> Songs used were 'Understanding' by Evanescence and 'I Don't Care' by Apocalyptica feat. Adam Gontier.


	5. Scarlet Rapture

_I don't know your heart_  
_I don't know where to begin_  
_But I could feel you erasing the rivers I'd drawn in_  
_The more I stood still_  
_The faster you were running_  
_You don't know how it feels crawling under your skin_  
_So far, so far away_  
_Don't you know we could be_

 

_High or low_  
_You never fell beneath me_  
_And I gave up on you, but I never forgot you_

 

_There's nothing left to give you_  
_Nothing more I need_  
_Time to let it sleep_  
_Oh, the damage was real_  
_But nothing cut me so deep I could not heal_

 

_Hi-Lo,_ Evanescence feat. Lindsey Stirling

 

 

“Are you sure I can’t tempt you to a dance, firebird?” Peter asked her, another two drinks later. Killian had disappeared at some point, though specifically when Sabryna couldn’t be sure. She didn’t like herself for it.

“No, it’s all right,” her voice was absent while her hair, hanging low on her back, tossed loosely around her shoulders, searching with hazy eyes for Killian. “Where did Killian go?” The anxiety was slowly returning to her, snowballing rapidly when she could find no sign of him. Blinking hard and forcing all her energy into focusing her eyes made no difference whatsoever.

“I think he found himself someone for the evening. Baby vampires require quite a lot of feeding,” Peter said with a sly grin, but was genuinely impressed at how quickly Killian had learnt to feed properly, as well as his adeptness to attracting partners. He remembered his own early days with unwavering fondness. He could have had anyone he wanted from the night he woke from the earth. But things had been more brutal back then. Much, _much_ messier. Peter had always been one for games, except his games often ended in blood. “Say, have you ever been fed from?” he enquired.

“No,” there was that tone of sadness again.

A few vampires had come close before, and never had she been a willing vessel to be drained. Anything with an unwilling participant was a form of assault. Even nearing the experience had felt like a violation. Yet there was still the idea of sharing the experience with another, intimate and terrifying, but so perfect. But then who would be mad enough to wish to share that with her?

“I know that a great many humans find it highly pleasurable, dare I say addictive,” Peter took hold of her hand and invisible threads pulled at her until she was looking into that perfect face. His eyes burned, intense, hungry. A voice in her mind pleaded with her to draw back, to ask him to help her find Killian so she could go home and spend an unknowable amount of her future questioning what she saw in Peter that night. Better than finding out and suffering for it; better to be left wondering.

She didn’t want to believe what she saw. This interest, keeping her close for so long, was surely just a façade, a game to him. There was cruel entertainment in leading on a plain and uninteresting girl, making her believe she was special before sweeping the rug out from under her feet and watching her fall on her arse with no one there to pick her up. Why else would she still be there?

“I can show you, if you like,” orbs of emerald bore straight into her, waving off her mask like it was nothing more than a thin veil of smoke.

This was just the next phase of the game, drawing out the initial surrender, the acceptance of becoming prey to a creature powerful beyond human comprehension. It had to be a trick, surely, as Peter released her hand only to slide his palm along her back until her torso was tucked into the crook of his arm. If he noticed the halting of her breath he didn’t show it, his eyes never leaving hers, keeping her helplessly ensnared. Beneath her top the skin under the pressure of his touch tingled delightfully. But he’d had god knows how many centuries to perfect the art of feigned intimacy. The pull of his grip angled her rigid body towards him, their thighs now touching.

A gasp slipped accidently from Sabryna’s mouth as Peter brushed her cheek softly with his knuckles. That he did take note of, and her insides squirmed at the devilish glimmer of his eyes and the wolfish grin. His body loomed over her, making her understand how little and helpless she was to him. “If you do not want this then tell me, my firebird; I will have Killian come and take you home and I shall understand completely. But I promise that you will not come to any harm, I’ve had a great deal of practice,” Peter’s graceful fingers ghosted down her cheek, over the curve of her jaw and onto the pale column of her throat, warm and pulsing.

“You…really want me?” Sabryna’s voice was little but the resistance of her body had begun to crumble to her desires. There was something in him, something too real. Even if she meant nothing to him, he wouldn’t hurt her.

Against all odds, the godlike vampire purred, “Yes.”

“You’ll just…feed from me though, right?”

“If that is what you want. And I promise I will be gentle, my Firebird. Shall we?”

Mouth dry, she could only make herself nod, still disbelieving what her senses had purveyed to her. Any second she’d come out of her daze…

The crowds parted tacitly for Peter and his enraptured companion. Having spent long enough staring at the concealed doors where so many couples disappeared, Sabryna never honestly thought she’d ever see them for herself. The walls of the hidden corridors were the same hue of green as the main room but had more intricate decorations of gold, silver and black, and a surprising amount of noise and music was suddenly cut off as the doors closed behind them. Peter’s grip on her hand was tight but reassuring and she found herself still trusting him. Frequently he would glimpse over his broad shoulder to read her features, ready to assure her if the need arose. Nervous, but not unwilling, he noted with confidence. Several other closed doors passed the pair as they journeyed through the gently winding corridor, adjusting to accommodating a number of different sized rooms.

This was really going to happen, she was going to do this. The pads of Peter’s fingers had settled over the pulse of her wrist. “Are you all right?” he murmured, having noticed a rapid quickening.

Despite walking in silence, the young woman found the air to be gone from her lungs, and nodded quickly before the insecurity could take a bite out of her resolve. Why shouldn’t she experience something new and exciting, even if it was scary? What could bring her to regret spending a few hours with a creature who embodied heaven and hell all at once? This opportunity may never represent itself again.

Peter led her to the door, larger than all the others, that lay at the very end of the corridor, opening it and standing aside, “After you,” there was that flawless smile again. Without his hand, Sabryna no longer quite felt the ground beneath her feet, and the moment she trod the threshold of Peter’s private chambers she angled her body back to him rather than taking in her surroundings.

The gentlemanly demeanour encompassing the vampire melted into something else entirely at the click of the door. Had it been a trap…?

Sabryna barely had time to finish the thought in her mind when Peter snatched her up in his arms, creating an arch in her spine as she was pressed tightly against that firm body, moulding to his form and a will that was not her own. A contented hum vibrated over Peter’s lips; she was so warm, soft and delicate like a bird. His firebird. Her fears of him being cold and uncomfortably hard were swept away, finding she could melt into him like liquid glass into its cast. She brought her hands to his chest, not yet brave enough to venture further, deep hazel eyes unblinking, glazed over with alcohol and wonder. Electric pulses throbbed within her veins at the sound and sight of peter closing those orbs of molten emerald and drawing in an indulging inhalation. Revealing his teeth, Peter’s fangs dropped. Surely they could only promise pain…

He stepped back then, towards the grand four-poster bed that had pine-green sashaying curtains and was carved out of rich cinnamon-hued wood, pulling her carefully along and, having sensed the spike of fear in her blood, used the inhuman speed he possessed to whisk her onto the bed. Her body sunk into the plush matching pillows, a gasp on her lips that was followed by a tiny smile of wonder. It was quickly replaced with wide, curious eyes as Peter crouched over her vulnerable form, keeping a tantalizing distance between them.

“It’s all right,” his voice was barely a whisper, eyes clearer than a full moon. “We can stop at any moment. This will be whatever you want it to be. Do you still want to?”

Something deep touched her in the chest; this thoughtfulness and consideration was something she had not expected in the slightest, not from an ancient vampire who took new lovers almost every night. How many people had he killed or hurt, discarded after a night of passion? There was not a reason in the world why she’d be any different. But in this one night, Peter would take care of her, and she found herself trusting in him, against her trained instincts and insecurity-governed sense.

Taking his time, Peter brought his long, graceful body to hover over her, cautiously holding his weight above her with his hands planted either side of her neck, sinking into the pillows, his eyes never leaving that juicy artery in her throat. Her throat – everyone would see what she’d done.

“Not the neck,” Sabryna said breathlessly.

Making no verbal reply, Peter growled lightly in affirmation, shifting his weight back onto his knees while scanning her body for another succulent artery to choose from. Briefly, his line of sight aligned with hers before lowering to the waistband of her jeggings. With nimble fingers he hooked the waistband and glided them down, intentionally taking his time, mayhaps so she could stop him if she wanted to, but he was met with no refusal or even reluctance. She was not unresponsive though. When his fingers brushed over the delicately shaped bones of her hips, the girl sucked in her toned stomach and breath at the same time, knots forming in her chest and lower belly. She knew that if he pressed down too hard the strong bones would crumble and splinter her, probably fatally, from the inside so, knowing how easily it could be done, she admired Peter for his gentleness. Pinching the fabric of her jeggings in his fingers, Peter took his time in pulling them all the way over her thighs, her knees, calves, then all the way over her feet, reminding her of a lover undressing his virgin bride for the first time.

A slight grin quirked on Peter’s lips at the sight of her left in a lavender tank top, little white socks and white knickers that were covered in blue butterflies. Instinctively Sabryna had drawn her thighs and knees a little closer together in preservation of her modesty, and she flinched a little when Peter laid his large hands on the insides of her knees, guiding them up the smooth flesh at an unhurried pace so as not to spook her, gently massaging the skin. Of her own accord, Sabryna parted her legs, inch by inch, allowing Peter to settle comfortably between her thighs.

“Good girl,” his voice was like sin, while he eyed her secrets through the slightly dampened fabric of her knickers. He curled his hands under those soft thighs, closing her warm limbs around his neck as he chose a particular artery to feed from.

Sabryna stifled a whimper at the ghosting touch of Peter’s lips on the skin of her inner left thigh. Her hands ached to cling onto something. Satisfied with his choice, unexpectedly he reared back, and immediately Sabryna believed herself to be at fault. “Calm yourself,” Peter’s chuckle was smooth, “Blood stains are a bugger to get out.”

She couldn’t agree more.

A curve held itself on Peter’s lips as he unbuttoned the black jacket, revealing another layer of black, a silken shirt with deep green coloured buttons, and tossed it aside, moving immediately to unbutton his shirt. The dryness of her mouth made the knots tighten with an accompanying blush. The bones of his collar and broad shoulders were beautifully elegant, his skin the colour of a moonlight kiss. He was much slower in shedding the silken shirt, giving way to sharply defined biceps and firm pectorals, and then to masculine forearms and a stomach that easily put hers to hideous shame. Before she’d realised it, Sabryna had tugged her top down and nudged her legs closer together. How could such a sensual carnal creature want her? She had little butterflies on her knickers, for Christ’s sake!

The following look from Peter near wiped her mind entirely. His muscles rippled and tensed in his movements as he lowered back between her legs. Sabryna sucked in a sharp breath and visualised the flow of energy down her legs to move them apart once again, wondering if Peter was used to this kind of timidity, then fearing that it would bore or repel him. His hands softly massaged her thighs, nuzzling the thin layers of skin translucently concealing her femoral artery with his cheek. The lowest of purrs rumbled over his lips.

“You smell fucking gorgeous. Don’t look so nervous. Here,” he reached his hand up towards her, allowing her to slip her fingers through his and clutch on. His thumb rubbed soothing circles on her flesh and he pressed a slow kiss to the point of her pulse.

Keeping focus on her breath, Sabryna compelled herself to breathe steadily and deeply without being too loud, casting her eyes up to the canopy of the bed. Her nerve would certainly shatter if she kept her eyes on Peter. Warmth thrummed on the skin of her thigh below the vampire’s ministrations, and then he bit down.

An uncontrollable cry resonated throughout the room, her fingers tightening like a vice around Peter’s hand, not that he really noticed. Even in spite of the sharp stinging pain like two large needles, Sabryna knew how gentle he was being. Apparently the pain of a vampire bite was one of those pains that could easily fade with time and repetition, unless the vampire intended to inflict pain. Peter held her lower body still with his other arm and the weight of his bite, pressing her into the bed while he sucked, very slowly at first. It could so readily be a terrifying thought to feel one’s blood, their very life essence, being pulled from them like a vessel to be drained. But others – a great many others, in Peter’s vast experience – found it exhilarating, even erotic, knowing that they were sacrificing themselves to a far greater being. It was a mutually enjoyable feeling.

Swallowing the first mouthful of that hot, sweet liquid, Peter’s eyes almost rolled back in his head but could do nothing to prevent the deep growl from within his chest. The hand holding hers had come to slip under her other thigh to keep her grounded; those not used to being fed from had more of a tendency to fidget, but he noted, with approval, that his unhappy girl was doing a fine job at keeping herself still, now gripping the thick quilt. Mouthful after mouthful went down his throat, the blood flowing so freely from one body into the other. He closely monitored Sabryna’s heartbeat, and knew he could keep going for a long while. While, at times, it was fun to guzzle at a human’s artery like a starving beast, he wanted to sip and savour her like a fine, exotic wine.

The pain was long gone by then, so far from Sabryna’s mind that she couldn’t remember it being there at all. Gentle like he’d promised, she found herself relaxing, even revelling, in the complete vulnerability. All her control had been surrendered to this god-like man, and a huge weight was taken from her. Parts of her body throbbed in ways she’d forgotten how they could. How could she have forgotten those feelings? The sweet spot between her hips pulsed like a sensuous musical beat. It was impossible to keep silent. She held back whines and moans, replacing them with light gasps as she fought to process everything coursing through her body. Her fingers curled mercilessly into the sheets if she focused on the sensation of her blood actually being drawn so forcefully from her veins; he wasn’t just lapping at a cut, he was greedily pulling the blood from deep within her.

It hurt more when Peter drew back and was an overly strange sensation to no longer have those fangs embedded in her flesh. Lazily, he licked up the drizzle of blood from the two puncture wounds. Sabryna tried to prop herself up onto her elbows, only to wobble and have a wave of nausea crash over. Her following whimper spoke her discomfort.

“Don’t worry, it’ll pass soon,” Peter’s voice was like soothing music to her ears, pacifying the dizziness. Through hooded eyes, Sabryna was curious to see how he had changed having had a rather sizeable meal. Traces of blood lingered around his lips and down his chin but he hadn’t really been very messy at all, and he appeared at ease, peaceful even. He bestowed a last kiss into the bite-marks, “And you taste much better than I could have thought. I hope I can taste you again,” he moved elegantly, coming to lie on his side right by her, a slight protective arch of his body, as though he were guarding her from something.

“How many people do you say that to?” Sabryna asked shakily, still feeling weakened. Again, her trained instincts screamed at her.

“Only those I like, and I like you,” he told her, sweeping a few loose strands of hair from her face.

Her facial muscles morphed into sheer confusion, “Why?” She expected to hear something rehearsed, something that could be said to anyone.

Though with the same care he’d shown her all night, Peter dragged the back of his finger over the pad of her cheek over and over, finding her eyes. “I’ve known every kind of person that there is to be known. Some kinds are rarer than others, especially when voluntarily coming to a place like this. Where this is shallowness in some, there is deepness in others, and that’s what I see in you. When I look in your eyes I see oceans and caverns that reach so far, and hold so much; it intrigues me, I must say. Why are you unhappy, Sabryna?”

She’d been lulled by his words, his voice, but was suddenly caught unawares by the question. A hundred thoughts bubbled to the surface of her mind and yet she couldn’t find a thing to say. It was such a simple question, stated with such ease. She had a feeling that she could better answer the plainly put questions of ‘why are we here?’ or ‘what is the purpose of life?’. Her mouth opened wordlessly, blinking quickly.

“You’d…You’d get the bleeds if I answered that,” she deflected with a blush of awkwardness.

“Petty human defence mechanisms will not work on me, Firebird,” Peter said, slipping his arm under her so he could pull her tight to his body and cradle her. “What reason would I have to ask if I did not want to know?”

Breathing acutely, Sabryna let her head rest comfortably on Peter’s firm bicep, her fingers lifted to delicately trace the skin of his chest. “I was diagnosed with chronic depression and GAD a few years ago,” she admitted, not letting her eyes find his. “My parents died when I was fourteen, so my aunt Camilla took me in but she died as well when I was seventeen and everything… fell apart for a while, and I don’t think I ever got over it completely. Among other things.”

“Dear girl,” peter whispered, still stroking her cheek. “How old are you now?”

“Twenty one.”  
“Ah, so young, so innocent. Your heart will heal, and you are strong.”

The young woman scoffed weakly, “I hardly think that’s right.”

“I wouldn’t have spared my attentions on you if I thought you were weak. It’s rather endearing that you don’t see it but I promise that I do.”

“I’m not, I’m really not,” Sabryna insisted, voice laced with that same sorrow Peter found himself becoming rather familiar with. There was so, so much that he hadn’t seen. He would not see strength if he found her on one of those dark nights where she was drunk out of her mind, staring at the ceiling or out the window while music filled her ears and she cried until she either passed out or dragged herself into bed. He would not think her strong on the days she could barely bring herself to leave the bed or get dressed, or those days when those were ambitions beyond her reach. He did not know her.

“Strong and humble,” Peter mused, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger. “Tell me, do you think you’ll come back here? Back to me?”

“Um, maybe,” she smiled lightly in half a mask. There were so many possibilities and in her head most of them involved disappointment. She was still sure that he was more interested in Henry and his abilities, but her answer seemed to satisfy Peter so she left it at that.

“I hope I’m not disappointed. It can be rare to find someone appeasing and who tastes so _fucking good_ ,” the vampire leaned down, brushing his cheek against hers so his voice rumbled in her ear.

Before she could stop herself, Sabryna closed her eyes as if she’d just sunk into a hot, sweetly-scented bath, body shuddering in exhilarated delight. Surely she should have been concerned, offended even, but Sabryna couldn’t help but feel special in some way; perhaps it was not because Peter was any old vampire, but because Peter was _Peter._ Eyes fluttering, she looked up at the godlike young man as though she were somehow afraid she may never see him after that night. Sensing her unease, Peter slanted her face up and descended upon her lips.

* * *

 

The following morning, Sabryna found, with relief, that she didn’t look as dreadful as she feared she would. Nevertheless she dragged herself into the shower as soon as she could find the will to get out of bed, filling the bathroom with musical noise before anything else, the way she always did. While the comfortingly hot water ran over her skin, she looked down at her thigh. There, in bone chilling clarity, was the proof that the previous night hadn’t been some wild fantasy. Peter had touched her, bitten her, and even kissed her. She’d blushed like an adolescent who’d found out that a boy, or girl, liked her for the first time and hastily said that she should be getting home. Of course Peter had allowed her to leave, though she hadn’t felt at all in control; the predator had let her go, for now, and it was on his whim alone that she made it home in Killian’s car in the early hours of the morning.

The minute she’d stepped out of Neverland, her mind had tried to decide the right amount of time to stay away before going back, or if she should have been contemplating going back at all. 

Around twenty minutes later, Sabryna sent a text to Granny asking if it was all right for her to take the evening shift again. It was a Thursday now – the drop-in day for Dr Hopper’s counselling. The thought of phoning up or emailing to make an appointment triggered her anxiety so strongly that they became physical impossibilities.

She trusted Dr Hopper with as much as she could give and regarded herself forever in his debt. In the aftermath of her aunt’s death, and already barely coping with undiagnosed and untreated mental illness, when the hinges of her sanity had slipped, he’d been there, fighting for her.

Dreams had turned to recurring and hauntingly vivid nightmares, and then to mild grief-induced hallucinations, spurred by a highly creative mind and the slips of iron control. Several times Sabryna had found herself in the woods or by the sea with no clear recollection of how she’d got there – sometimes none at all –  or had been certain of memories that everybody else told her she’d imagined. Her imagination had always been powerful, except it had been taken from her, twisted and turned against her. But the worst part of that period was when she’d been taken to an _institution_ for the ‘troubled’ and out of Storybrooke for those harrowing eight months. The nurses had had to force her to take her medicine, keeping her tied down in fits of rage or panic, but if anything the drugs had only made things worse, so much worse. Maladies of the mind couldn’t be pinned down the same way a physical illness could, and treatments miraculous for some proved catastrophic for others.

It had been Dr Hopper – with the help of others, Killian above all other – who had gotten her out, pulled the right strings, and brought her home, taking her immediately into his care. One of the conditions for her release had been the continuation of medication and, of course, Dr Hopper had agreed but instead he’d helped her work through the different drugs, one at a time, listening to her every word when she described how they affected her, and if she hadn’t felt they were helping, Dr Hopper crossed them off the list and assured her she would never have to take them again.

Without any family left to protect her, Dr Hopper had been the one who came to her rescue.

The worst consequences like the hallucinations and loss of memory or not being entirely present in her own mind had repaired shortly before she’d turned nineteen, and her mind had felt like her own again. She’d kept going to therapy with Dr Hopper for several months after, still needing to cope with her depression and an anxiety disorder as well as the stigmatic rumours that still followed her like a cursing shadow, and over that time Sabryna had felt confident that she was in a period of recovery, even though it had only lasted a year or so.

Relapses were likely, perhaps inevitable, and now she had to accept hers, even if it did strip her of her dignity and sense of accomplishment for earlier recoveries.

Sabryna pulled on a pair of faded jeans, a short-sleeved black t-shirt, the first pair of trainers she could find, and shrugged on a long grey hoodie over her head, the hood bunched around her neck. Checking her phone, she saw that Granny had replied shortly after her message, requesting that she start a six and work until closing time. Sabryna texted back her assent, gathered her essentials and briskly set off to Dr Hopper’s office.

She felt a hundred eyes on her even though her path started off the exact same way as it did to the diner, almost disbelieving that Henry had been able to convince her to convince herself to go back. What if people who knew her, which was the considerable majority of Storybrooke, saw her heading towards Dr Hopper’s place and knew instantly why? She knew how they whispered among themselves, the things some people believed about her. Before she knew it, Sabryna had pulled the hood over her head.

Breathing out a heavy expulsion of hot air, she deeply regretted ever leaving her flat yet the awkwardness of simply stopping and turning back kept her walking on, while a memory surfaced in her mind’s eye.

_She’d been back in Storybrooke for a few weeks, found a flat, gotten a job at the Diner and began her first couple of weeks of training with the police, and had just about settled after moving in to her flat. She’d lived with Killian for a short interval but still visited and stayed with him fairly often. And one morning, after he’d had a…lady friend stay the night, and Sabryna had slept snugly on the sofa with the TV to keep her company through the night, she’d been the first to wake up. She tiptoed to the bathroom to use the loo and wash her face, and thought that it might be a nice thing to make breakfast for Killian and the lady who’d stayed the night._

_She was at the stove when the ebony haired man crept out from his darkened bedroom, hair dishevelled and in nothing but a long pair of slacks._

_“What time is it?” he asked groggily, rubbing the back of his head._

_Sabryna scoffed lightly, “Nearly nine. You still haven’t learnt to lie in properly. Weren’t you ever a teenager?”_

_“About a hundred years ago,” he drawled, taking one of the two stools at the breakfast bar and thought about stealing a sip from the mug of tea still steaming only about a foot away from him. “What you doing?”_

_Sabryna looked over her shoulders and gave a sheepish shrug before turning back to flip one of the pancakes in the frying pan, the stove occupied with steaming dishes ready to be served up. “Making breakfast. I wasn’t sure what_ she’d _like so I made scrambled eggs, boiled eggs, bacon, toast, a fruit salad dish-thing, and pancakes. There’s syrup and lemon and sugar. Take your pick.”_

_“Bloody hell, Duchess. You’ve outdone yourself this time,” he adored her nonchalant shrug, its humble genuineness. “Have you eaten yet?”_

_The calm air about her dissipated as she shook her head almost guiltily, saying nothing and not meeting his eyes. Not eating, feeling the gnawing hunger to blot out the numbness, the believed delusion that she wasn’t hungry, to punish, it was addictive._

_“’Bryna, you promised you’d try to keep eating.” That was what hurt most; not that she’d not been eating, but that she’d promised she would and had meant it._

_“I’ll eat what you guys don’t want,” she tried to offer in a lighter tone._

_“Nope,” Killian said, getting up from the stool to get down a third plate from the crockery shelf, “you’re having some now. You’ve made enough to feed half the town.” He put two slices of golden-warm buttered toast onto the plate, pinched three slices of the lightly crisped bacon with a muttered “’scuse fingers” before spooning a generous portion of scrambled eggs onto the plate. “Now, you eat this – all of it – I’ll finish this up.”_

_Sabryna set aside the plastic spatula she’d been using to flip the pancakes and took the quickly warmed plate from Killian’s hands, “Thanks,” she said softly, smiling as he kissed her forehead._

_She was about half way through her breakfast, and Killian had already finished his first helping, when his guest arrived in the kitchen. She noted the cliché look of dishevelled hair, slightly smudged make-up and wearing an oversized shirt that belonged to her lover, and shrugged internally. Sometimes clichés were bang on._

_“Hey, Rosie,” Killian all but purred, yet all Sabryna wondered if it was the same Rosie that Ruby and Ariel had mentioned in casual conversation before, and if she should excuse herself to give them their privacy._

_“Morning,” Rosie smiled broadly, sweeping a few honey-hued locks behind her ear that had slipped from her messy makeshift bun. “Did you do all this?” she asked, taking in all the served dishes now on the table, clearly pleasantly surprised._

_“I can take credit for the last two pancakes but, er, Sabryna did all the rest,” Killian said with a quirky grin._

_As Rosie’s eyes naturally fell on her, Sabryna smiled without having to think about it, the sort of smile of assurance that she only intended goodwill – the ‘I’m not a threat, I’m friendly’ smile. The lack of reciprocation made her tummy tighten with a choking force._

_“Sabryna?” Rosie echoed, realisation pulling at her features, “As in Sabryna Sura?”_

_Killian sat a little straighter, “Yeah. She’s been staying with me, works with me. I mentioned that to you last night.”_

_“You didn’t say it was Sabryna Sura.”_

_“And why exactly is that a problem?” Killian challenged unabashedly, in the corner of his eye noticing how Sabryna had rounded her shoulders in protectively and pressed her legs together, too afraid to draw direct attention to herself by getting up and leaving._

_They could both see perfectly what Rosie was thinking but didn’t know how to verbalise in a way that didn’t betray her outright for what she was. Sabryna pushed her plate away from her, overpowered by the need to get the sight of food away from her to keep her nauseated stomach from convulsing._

_“Is it because she was admitted to a mental health hospital?” Killian snapped, filling the excruciating silence even as the girl grimaced next to him._

_Sabryna wanted to get angry. Anger, strong anger, was one of the very few things that could break past her anxiety-borne inhibitions and carve a way for her voice. Except she didn’t have nearly enough ammo to get through her own defences, which were only locking into place, welded by hurt and shame._

_“It’s just…that place has a reputation. The people who are put in there,” Rosie stumbled, fumbling with the long sleeves of his shirt._

_“A ‘reputation’ founded by little more than bloody ignorance and stigma,” he barked, cutting her off, before lowering his voice to a calm, reserved tone – that only the British could seem to master – that was only more intimidating, “I think it’d be best if you left now. And I’ll have my shirt back.”_

_Five minutes later Rosie was out the door, scowling as she heard the muttering of “Bitch” from behind her on the way out but she did nothing, for ignorance was frequently paired with baseless fear._

_The door had barely slammed when Killian cursed, “Bloody cunt.” And Sabryna couldn’t help but smile a little._

The heat rose in her chest as she at last approached the door to Dr Hopper’s office, returning to the moment, a light doggy smell in the air. Pongo had always liked her, and that was both a great consolation and encouragement as she raised her hand to knock lightly.

Upon opening the door and seeing Emma’s young lieutenant, Dr Hopper’s eyebrows almost leapt up to his hairline. “Sabryna?” he almost choked on his own chuckle, “it’s so good to see you again. Are-Are you here for the drop-in?”

Sabryna noted his inquisitive, yet hopeful tone, and nodded, using its delay to find words for her tongue. “Yeah, if that’s all right.”

“Of course it is,” he replied cheerily, opening the door fully and standing aside, extending his arm in welcome. “Please, please, come in.”

Pongo trotted up to her as she stepped inside, tail wagging furiously, and a big smile pulled at her face; she crouched down and cupped his face, ruffling his thin fur affectionately. “Hey, buddy,” she whispered softly, moving out of the way of his doggy kisses.

“So, what you brings you back, Sabryna?” Dr Hopper asked as she straightened up and assumed the patient’s position on the sofa, one of the kind typically imagined in a psychiatrist’s office, leaving her bag on the floor beside it.

“Henry convinced me. You can thank or blame him, depending how this goes,” Sabryna replied, folding her hands on her tummy.

Dr Hopper sat across from her, one leg crossed over the other while he cradled a board; meanwhile Pongo was curled up by the fire, and Sabryna’s rather bulky file had been set on the small table by his chair.

“Why do you think Henry wanted you to come back here?” he asked, his therapist’s voice fully engaged.

The lieutenant took a deep breath. “He thinks I’m getting worse again, you know what he’s like, how he just knows things. I guess it’s harder for me to see.”

“But do you feel like your depression and anxiety are getting worse?”

“My anxiety is the same, I suppose.” Still interfering at every turn, seeping into the unsuspecting cracks, keeping her so utterly trapped at times, and making her run like a coward at others. “But, I think I know what Henry means. I want to drink more and more, things like getting out of bed are harder than they used to be – I still have to play music when I’m alone, I can’t bear silence – and it feels harder and harder to hold onto things.”

“I remember you saying similar things before,” one of the best things about Dr Hopper had always been his attention to detail and his uncanny ability to remember all the little things. “Am I right in thinking that means your emotional attachments to things and to people are weakening? That they feel less significant?”

“Mmhm,” she hated herself for admitting it, more so for it being the truth, knowing in her mind what and who was important to her, but nowadays it was harder and harder for the emotion to come with it.

“Okay,” Dr Hopper murmured, making a note. “Let’s talk about the drinking first. What appeal does it hold for you?”

“Sometimes it just helps take the edges off and helps me feel less anxious and more creative, I guess, and normally in those circumstances I don’t feel dependent on it and it was more moderated. But recently it helps me feel more. Like, I feel I’m more the person I should be.”

“What I’m getting is that you see yourself almost as two different versions and you’re trying to find a way back to your, shall we say, original, desired version and drinking is acting as a sort of quick fix for that?”

“Yeah, but it works, so it seems almost logical to keep doing it.”

“You said to me before that you’d never let alcohol impact your work, is this still the case?”

“Hmm, I’m always sober on the job,” both of them knew it was her policing work that was being referred to.

“And what about at Granny’s? Are you drinking there?”

“More than before, but not a lot. We’ll have a drink or two when it gets late but it’s when I get home that I keep going, or when I’m not working. Days off might as well be hard drinking days.”

“Okay,” Dr Hopper paused to make some more notes, using his briefest shorthand. “I remember you used alcohol as a sort of crutch after your aunt passed away; you said you became very detached to most things. And I heard about what happened to Killian, do you think you’re following a similar kind of pattern?”

“I’m not sure, maybe.”

“Do you feel that you’ve somehow lost Killian in some way after what happened?”

Sabryna’s voice became thick, “I think…I do. I’m not used to not seeing him every day. Even when I wasn’t working, he’d come by the diner just to see me, we’d spend loads of time together. We’d go out to places, and we’d drink together a fair bit.”

“That must be very difficult. Do you think you’re trying to recreate the intimacy in some way indirectly by drinking without Killian, as a sort of reminder?”

She shrugged, “I suppose; it makes sense.”

“You can tell me off if I get something wrong,” Dr Hopper grinned at her before his attentive and thoughtful expression resumed. “But tell me more about what it’s been like without him?”

“It’s…something I didn’t think would ever happen. I still expect to see him when I go into the station. Every time the door opens at Granny’s I still think it might be him or every time my phone goes off or when I hear a car pull up outside my flat. I always check, just in case.”

“Do you know where he is now?”

“He’s at that new vampire bar, Neverland, in the next town. He said he had to be around his own kind, for now at least, but it’s still horrible without him. I know he’s not dead or anything, it’s never going to be the same as it was before.”

“It’s natural to grieve, Sabryna. It’s completely normal to seek closure. What you need is a healthier outlet for your feelings. Now, this might sound juvenile now, but,” Dr Hopper got this his feet and rummaged through his desk. He pulled out an adult colouring book and a pack of pens. “I keep a few of these at the ready. Something as simple as colouring can help alleviate anxiety and stress and provide a healthy, calming distraction. Maybe give it a try next time your thoughts seem to get frantic or you just need to take your mind off things. You had a few of these when you were younger, didn’t you?” Sabryna nodded and Dr Hopper put the colouring book and pens by her bag before resuming his seat. “Can you think of anything that could help you?”

“Not really because usually I’d call Killian or meet up with him or something like that.”

“Can you no longer do that?”

Sabryna shrugged half-heartedly, “Ever since he was turned, everything’s different. It doesn’t feel like I can just call him or ask him to come round anymore. It just feels all different. Every time I pick up the phone, something just tells me to put it down again. And it’s not like he’s messaging me anymore.”

“When was the last time you saw him?”  
“Last night, but it was different.”

“Can you tell me more?”

“He picked me up so I could go to Neverland and ask around about the people who have gone missing. We talked and stuff but it still felt strange, especially at first. I didn’t really think about it though at the time because,” Sabryna swallowed, trying to clear way in her throat for the next words, “something else happened.”

“Is that something you want to talk about?”

“I - I met another vampire,” she almost choked on the tidal wave of shame that struck her like a fist in the jaw. “And I let him bite me.”

“Is that something you feel guilty about or regret doing?”

“I don’t regret it – that’s the worst part. Like, I regret _not_ regretting it.”

“It’s not wrong for you to make friends with, or be with vampires, just because of what you do professionally. You don’t need to feel ashamed or like you betrayed anyone.”

“But as far as I know, most of my family were killed by vampires. It’s why I joined the Force to begin with, so I could make sure it didn’t happen to anyone else. And now I feel like I’ve betrayed them.”

“But do you think you’d feel the same way if they been killed by humans instead of vampires? And do you think if those were the circumstance you’d feel this way if you’d been intimate with another human?”

Sabryna had to think deeply for a moment. “I don’t think so, but it’s just not the same. Most people are scared or at least a bit wary around every vampire they meet. It’s not the same with other people. Humans kill with a motive - revenge, anger, delusion – not for dinner.”

“Vampires can have motives too,” Dr Hopper pointed out carefully. “And if you think about it, hunger is a motive too. A very overpowering motive if pushed too far.”

“From my experience it’s to cover up something, or for fun.”

“This vampire, did he hurt you at all?”

“No.” It hurt to think back on Peter. Her heart tugged, and already her mind whispered of returning to him, “No, he was…perfect. He made sure I wanted to go through with it. I think I’d actually feel less guilty if he’d forced me somehow. The worst part is that he asked if I’d go back and I think I want to.”

“You know, there’d be nothing wrong with that. It’s okay to differentiate the vampires who hurt you and the vampires who could be a positive part of your life. And it’s okay to believe that you’re not betraying anyone.”

“I don’t know what to think about anything anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave comments. The song used was Hi-Lo by Evanescence feat. Lindsey Stirling.
> 
> Also I've finally decided to get active on tumblr so please follow/support me. It's mostly dedicated to Peter Pan (OUAT) and writing (tips/prompts/original works) and requests for Peter Pan imagines are also open. Find me at palemoonpersephone.tumblr.com aka Howling Hounds.


	6. The Darkest Hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient for this update. 
> 
> Exciting news - I've recently been in touch with some artists and commissioned pieces for this story and for 'Sabre' as well. So far there are only completed pieces for 'Sabre' but there are more on the way for both. If you'd like to see then head over to my tumblr and search the 'commission' or 'commissioned art' tags - palemoonpersephone.tumblr.com/tagged/commission and please let me know what you think. Also if there's anything you really, really want to see made into art then let me know!
> 
> Warning: dark content and attempted suicide, so please proceed with caution and consideration.

_I hear noises in the dark_   
_And hope I only dream_   
_My head is the only place_   
_Where I can hear myself_   
  
_All I do is breathing in_   
_All I do is breathing out_   
  
_Erase me_   
_From all hoping and dreaming_   
_And wishing on stars_   
_Erase me_   
_Into lonesome obsessions_   
_And unhealing scars_   
_Erase me_   
_There is no other dawn_   
_I am longing to see_   
_Erase me..._   
  
_I'm near but my heart is cold_   
_My eyes can't hold the tears_   
_I'm here and my mirror shows_   
_My childhood's ghastly fears_   
  
_What if I want to fade away?_   
_Making mistakes I've always made..._

_Erase Me,_ Elysion

 

As the next six weeks or so passed, the claws of the demon called _depression_ sunk ever deeper in Sabryna’s being. The masks were getting harder to wear, more tiring and with more cracks than ever. The weight in her chest was getting heavier every day, each morning harder to face. Three emptied vodka bottles sat in the cupboard, a full one besides them. Sabryna had long lost count of how many times her thoughts had run over her night with Peter, what he’d did and what he’d said, and what he may have meant. She’d have been lying if she told herself that she didn’t want to go back, though every time she’d been about to pick up her phone and text Killian her nerve had scarpered.

Killian hadn’t been back to Storybrooke since that night and the contact had been minimal, resulting in the formulation of about half the content during her drop-in sessions with Dr Hopper. He was pleased that she’d gotten through a few of the pages of the colouring book but was well aware of her continuous decline and had been cautiously suggesting various medications, all of which Sabryna already had stored away in her bathroom. Her nerve had again broken when she’d tried to rattle those bottles and get a pill to slip into her hand, and then accused herself of being the one to blame as to why she wasn’t getting better; a toxic spiral would take hold and leave her balling on the floor like a child.

What made things even worse was that she’d made no progress in finding any of the missing persons since her trip to Neverland. She’d watched the toll grow ever greater on Granny at Ruby’s prolonged absence. Sometimes at work Sabryna would feel the old woman’s hard eyes on her back, cursing her, _blaming_ her. Not that she blamed her for it though – she blamed herself. If she was, as best, half competent at her job she would have found at least something.

It was late at the diner, and as normal it was just her and Henry looking after the last few customers after Granny had gone to bed. Henry wiped down a couple of tables while Sabryna sat at the bar, a drink in hand.

“I can finish up here,” Henry offered, leaning over the opposite side of the bar. He’d noticed her eyeing up the liquor bottles over the past half hour.

“I don’t wanna go home,” she mumbled and took another sip. Shifts exhausted her far more than they used to – _but I have to pay for alcohol somehow,_ her thoughts added bitterly.

Henry’s hands were soft and warm as they encased her own. “Are you sure you should be living alone right now? I’m so worried about you.”

Sabryna looked down, engulfed by hatred. Not towards him but herself. Henry was so good to her and all she could offer in return was, well, _nothing_. Another topic talked about in every session with Dr Hopper was the growing detachment between her and her feelings, leaving behind a hopeless, bleak emptiness that had started to ask questions laced with poison. In his distracted moments Henry had sometimes caught the tail-ends of these questions. They left him pale faced, and, one time, with a smashed plate at his feet.

But the prospect of living with someone was something Sabryna planned to stay very far away from. It would mean constant effort to appear appropriate and proper, and before long they’d grow too exhausted to tolerate her. Illnesses were taxing, even for those who didn’t have them. Sabryna didn’t want that weight on someone else, especially her friends, even if she no longer felt connected to them. “I’m better on my own,” she finally said.

Taking another drink, her line of sight fell onto a couple in the far booth by chance. Initially her heart stilled for they were both gazing at her, and not in a pleasant way. They then turned to share a look and a whisper, making her stomach flip. The muscles of her face contorted into a scowl while on the inside fear and an unexpected amount of hurt balled in her chest.

She turned sharply to Henry, keeping her voice low. “What are they saying?”

Henry looked over his shoulder. “I don’t know,” he answered, shrugging.

“Listen harder,” her jaw clenched as she fought to keep her voice steady.

“Sabryna, don’t do this to yourself,” Henry sighed but ultimately knew there was little point in arguing with her stubborn determination. He closed his eyes, focusing his mind to branch out into the great chasm that only he could cross. The penetration of thoughts was something he’d grown used to long ago. He grimaced. Sabryna would certainly not like what he’d heard.

“What?” Sabryna asked lowly, “What is it?”

The younger sighed again, regret strewn across his pleasant features. “They think you’re responsible for Ruby still being missing and that perhaps you should have stayed in the… the _asylum_. And they’re speculating about what happened to Killian and if it had something to do with you.” His insides quivered as Sabryna’s face darkened dangerously. He could almost see her bristling.

Untamed rage rendered her infuriatingly mute, while she practically screamed inside her head. The barriers of Henry’s mind were still lowered; it was like someone was shaking his mind like a rattle. He knew it wouldn’t have gone well to tell her, but also knew that if she wasn’t certain she’d spend a long time practically torturing herself over what it might have been. Her language was even fouler in silence and Henry found himself flinching as he hurriedly threw up the barriers of his mind until the only thoughts he could hear were his own.

“They’re wrong, Sabryna.”

“Are they? I can’t even look Granny in the eye anymore because every time that door opens she hopes it’ll be Ruby,” she knew this better than anyone; because she still had the same habit.

“None of what’s happened is your fault,” he began to say but Sabryna had jumped to her feet with a start.

He watched her storm off into the office and reappear moment later with her things. “Get Belle or someone to cover my shift tomorrow.”

“Sabryna, wait-,” but she had already almost ripped the door off its hinges and vanished into the dark Storybrooke streets.

_How dare they? Who the fuck do they think they are? What gives them the right to spew horseshit about something they don’t know anything about, and know that they don’t know about it? Why are people so fucking stupid? Fucking, cunting bastards!_ Sabryna brutally kicked the bin she’d just passed, too enraged to feel any pain in her limb, nails digging into her palms. Why were people so ready to assume the worst about others, to assign blame? To be so immature and petty as to treat rumour like fact? Or too cowardly to be upfront and just ask? She hadn’t needed to be a mind-reader like Henry to know what people thought of her when she’d had the nervous breakdown when she was eighteen and still aware enough, as well as after she’d begun to get better. She’d heard whispers of stories – or what people claimed she’d done – when she wasn’t wholly present in her mind, and she’d tortured herself over it, with no way to be fully sure of what she’d done in the blackouts.

The ground almost trembled under her feet as she aimlessly strode down the streets. Nowhere to go, she just had to keep moving. It occurred to her in the back of her mind that she didn’t have any weapons on her, except that she was too angry and, more deeply, hurt to be concerned about it. If someone wanted to come at her then she was ready to beat the crap out of them. She didn’t know how she’d been walking for when the lights of a liquor store caught her eye. Halting, Sabryna rummaged through her bag to fish out her purse, then checked how much money she had on her.

Five minutes later, Sabryna was walking home with a large bottle of vodka in her hand.

* * *

 

The diner didn’t seem right for Henry without Sabryna there. He immediately missed her presence, the gentle thrum of her thoughts – even if he couldn’t hear her, he was soothed by simply knowing she was there. He desperately wanted to go over and visit her but the diner was short enough of staff anyway and while Belle was doing her best, she didn’t help out very regularly, usually working at the Storybrooke library. Hour after hour, Henry’s instincts were tense and erratic, that gut feeling of knowing something was so very wrong. He regularly checked his phone and the string of messages he’d sent her throughout the day, despite being fairly sure that she wouldn’t be conscious until the afternoon hours at least.

The sun set at about six in the evening. Henry, Belle and a couple of other waiters they’d managed to pull in were hurrying around with the early dinner rush. That with the mounting anxiety at Sabryna’s silence, Henry felt more and more off his game; thoughts were slipping in, piercing his mind – images, slithers of thoughts, a constant buzz. Not a soothing one. He tried not to be snappy but the pressure was getting to him.

He’d just finished delivering meals to a family when the bell chimed. The young man spun around, ready to greet the new customers but the smile died on his face, leaving a rather awkward expression in its wake. Two striking men had entered. Something in the air immediately changed, a flood of thoughts pounding against Henry’s mind. Time itself seemed to pause, needing to take a breath. It took him a moment to realise one of the men was Killian Jones, who looked so similar yet so utterly different. His eyes flickered between the man he’d known for so many years and the other whom he’d never seen before in his life. No thoughts pierced his mind, but he felt something, age-old, wise and godlike, nothing like the young power he sensed from Killian.

“Hello, Henry,” Killian greeted, voice huskier than Henry remembered.

Henry gulped, “H-Hi,” he mentally shook himself, “Been a long time. The booth at the back is free, if you want it.”

“That’d be perfect, _Henry_ ,” the stranger replied effortlessly, the words rolling of his tongue; Henry’s breath almost hitched. “Where are my manners? I’m Peter,” he offered his hand, which Henry took with a stunned shyness; “a pleasure.”

“I’ll be right with you,” Henry said as his hand was returned to him.

Killian nodded before slipping through the quietened diner with Peter closely behind him. Henry had to go behind the bar to fish out the small-sized menus for vampire customers, listing all the available types of Tru Blood.

Belle leaned over the bar, “Is that actually Killian? People haven’t seen him in _months_ ,” she whispered. “Do you think he’s here for Sabryna?”

“No idea,” Henry shrugged, not looking up from his search.

“Picked the wrong day for it. And who’s that guy with him?”

“No idea. I think she’s met him before though, when she went to Neverland to investigate the disappearances. Mentioned that he was oldest vampire she’d ever met.”

“Is he Killian’s Maker?” Belle’s reddish brown hair flicked as she spared a quick glance over her shoulder to the corner booth, where most of the customers had their eyes.

“No, not him,” Henry rose to his feet, having finally found the vampire menus. With two in hand, he swept back around the counter towards the corner booth. All part of the routine, Henry laid the menus in front of Killian and Peter, highly doubting that they’d just come by for a drink.

“Been quite a while, Henry,” Killian began.

“And long enough to completely mess with Sabryna’s head,” Henry cut in, despite the temptation to opt for fouler language. “Are you even aware of what’s happened to her over the last few weeks?”

“I was hoping to speak to her myself. Where is she?” Killian looked past Henry, scoping the diner for his old partner.

“She’s not here. What brings you to back to Storybrooke?” Henry asked stiffly.

“Well, Killian speaks often and fondly of Storybrooke so I became curious, and our friend was kind enough to show me around,” if Henry could have read Peter’s mind, he might have seen past the immaculate façade and had his ignorance enlightened. “Try not to be too hard on Killian here. New vampires find it very difficult to adjust to their new lives and it can be dangerous for them to be around humans until they’ve settled and learned to control their new instincts and urges. The best thing for them is to be under the guidance of other older vampires, hence why he’s been with me and…the family.”

“You still could have called her, or texted her,” Henry turned his sharpened gaze back to the black haired man.

“The changes aren’t just physical, Henry,” Killian told him.

“So you just don’t give a crap anymore?”

“I’m afraid this is my fault as well; I’ve been keeping Killian rather busy. Things will settle, Henry, I assure you,” Peter soothed flawlessly. “It’s common for new vampires to need some distance before they can readjust. This is only temporary, I promise.”

“Okay,” Henry breathed, still scolding the former lieutenant harshly in silence. “Anything I can get you?”

“B- for me, please,” Peter said.

“And I’ll have O. Either’s fine,” Killian added.

Henry made himself smile politely, “No problem.”

Once Henry was a safe distance away, Peter leaned over towards Killian, voice hushed, “Looks like we were right. _Fuck_ , did you smell him?”

“I could barely keep still,” Killian’s shoulders tensed and flexed, his voice reduced to a rasping growl in the back of his throat.

The elder chuckled, “You did well. There’s no way that he’s full-blooded but it’s in his lineage. I’ve been searching for _centuries_.”

“What happens now?” Killian eyed the boy who was heating two bottles of Tru Blood in the microwave.

“Now,” Peter all but purred, “we invite him in. He comes to us.”

“But he won’t come to any harm, will he? He’s an innocent, not to mention the repercussions.”

“I shan’t hurt him,” the emerald eyed young man promised, before a devilish smirk lifted his features, “unless he wants me to.”

Their faces returned to charming pleasantness when Henry arrived with their bottles of Tru Blood and of course they both thanked him with voices like dripping gold. After that Henry purposefully kept a safe distance, able to hear Belle’s frantic and protective thoughts. He didn’t know how to explain to someone how unsettling it was to _not_ be able to hear the thoughts of another, no matter how deeply he focused his innate talent. When he reached out to Killian and Peter, nothing. Completely nothing. Just a dead, cold silence. He remembered the pattern of Killian’s thoughts while he was still mortal, now realising that he missed it.

Retreating behind the bar for a brief break, Henry started to pour himself a quick drink, only then a sickening feeling descended in his chest, wrapping around his stomach. Lightheaded and nauseated, a pull developed in his chest and suddenly blurred images of Sabryna flickered in his mind like a dying bulb. His breath hitched in his throat and he bolted towards the door like a man with death on his heels.

* * *

 

The door was locked and latched, the curtains drawn and dark. Plates and glasses had been smashed, the broken remains littering the floor. Stumbling into the bathroom, Sabryna caught a faded glimpse of herself in the mirror. She barely recognised herself, and for a moment the image reminded her of a tormented horror character who’d crawled out from the depths of Hell.

She’d never have to look at her reflection again.

With the clumsiness of a baby, her fists closed around the first bottle of pills she could find. Fumbling, shaking, she unscrewed the lid, turned on the sink tap and tossed her head back so that those little white capsules tumbled down her throat in an uncountable number. Holding them fixed with the muscles of her mouth and throat, she ducked to slurp down water from the tap, barely able to see through her tear-clumped eyelashes so depending on her erratic sense of touch.

It would be over soon, she’d go to sleep, and be at peace…

“SABRYNA!”

Fighting her gag reflex, she made herself swallow and snatched out for another bottle and another, the growing pounding on the door hammering through her skull. There wasn’t enough left in her to comprehend the horror that must have been crushing down on henry’s mind as he was overpowered by hers.

“Sabryna, open the door!” Henry hollered from outside, almost breaking the bones of his hands. “Please don’t do this! _Sabryna!_ ”

She couldn’t stop herself anymore, alternating between swallowing the pills already halfway down her throat, slurping water and tipping the current bottle to her lips. There could be no going back at this point.

Somewhere through the midst of her whirring mind and vison, the cracking of splintering wood and grinding hinges. Before she could stop herself, Sabryna’s teeth crunched down on the pills between her teeth and their foul bitter taste leaked onto her tongue.

“Sabryna!” Henry nearly tore the bathroom door’s hinges off, his knuckles already turning purple. “ _Shit, shit, shit_ ,” he cursed taking a split second to make out the horrific scene that assaulted his eyes before seizing the broken girl.

Locking one arm around her waist, he hoisted her upright, fisting his other hand through her tangled hair and shook her whole body violently. The bottles she’d opened clattered to the floor, scattering pills everywhere, while her body already turned on itself, screaming and thrashing as it fought to survive. Henry forced her head over the sink, forcing pressure onto her stomach.

“Throw it up. Jesus Christ, throw it up. You’re not doing this to me,” hot angry tears welled in Henry’s eyes. From behind, he frantically searched for the pressure points that would lock her jaw open and when he found it, he plunged his fingers into her mouth, reaching for the back of her throat. She’d always had a strong gag reflex, and perhaps it would now save her life.

Sabryna convulsed with a thick choked sound. Henry quickly pulled his hand back out. There hadn’t been enough time for the pills to start breaking down very much so when they came up with a thin mix of water and bile they dropped, many of them still perfectly intact, into the basin with tiny rattling sounds.

“Henry!” Killian was suddenly in the doorway. If he’d still had a heartbeat it would have frozen. “ _Fuck_. Henry, invite Peter in. Then mix salt with water. Pour it down her throat.”

Sabryna was already in Killian’s hold and Henry stumbled out of the bathroom, slapping the light switch to the living room on the way. The girl started to thrash about, her throat and stomach burning like viciously corrosive acid had been forced into her system, conscious thought having abandoned her. Henry rushed back into the bathroom, spilling some water on the floor, salt crystals settling at the bottom of the glass.

“Pour it down her throat,” Killian repeated, growling out, holding Sabryna’s head at the right angle and pinching her nose so that she couldn’t refuse to swallow it. Henry wiped his eyes and tipped some of the foul liquid into her mouth, and every fibre in him shrivelled when Sabryna emitted a sound that would have been an anguished scream if she could have opened her mouth. Killian tilted her head back so it was either swallow or choke; her body instinctively chose for her.

“No more!” she pleaded in a strangled cry before throwing up violently into the sink, bringing up even more capsules, throat so raw it almost bled as she retched and cried out in torment.

“We have to take her to the hospital,” Henry’s voice was shaking, higher in pitch than normal, looking helplessly between the two vampires.

“ _No, no_ ,” Sabryna sobbed, even more woozy in the head now that her previously rather empty stomach had been ransacked completely. If she went to a hospital, everyone would know, just like before. All control of her life would be taken from her, just like before. Only worse.

They’d put her back in the asylum.

“Not there,” she choked out, voice unrecognisable. “You know what they’ll do.”

“Bring her back to Neverland,” Peter said firmly, not shaken or shocked. In fact, his demeanour was unchanged.

“She needs a hospital,” Henry protested.

“We have something that no hospital has. Take her to the car now, Killian,” the ancient vampire was absolute, and Killian scooped up the bawling girl in his arms. He rounded on Henry, “You will tell everyone that Sabryna has come to temporarily work for me, on Killian’s advice, to help promote vampire-human relations and spend some time away from the pressures of her other work. Can I trust you?”

“Yes,” Henry nodded messily, sniffling, “but shouldn’t I come?”

“No, you need to stay here and to keep this secret,” Peter refuted in his most persuasive voice. Of course the boy complied and, satisfied with it, Peter moved in a blur, leaping out through the window of Sabryna’s living room to meet Killian at the car that had been pulled up outside her flat block. Killian had opened the back door and was slipping Sabryna’s body into the back seat when Peter landed a few feet away. “You drive. I’ve got her.”

Knowing there was no point or time to disagree, Killian shut Sabryna in the back and moved to get into the driver’s seat. Squeezing her eyes shut, Sabryna heaved up sob after sob, broken but coming back to her awareness, so cold and lonely with no one’s arms locking around her.

She didn’t know what to do.

This wasn’t how things were meant to go. The one tiny consolation was that they weren’t going to take her to the hospital, or so she prayed with everything she had. The car door on her opposite side opened and a figure slipped in next to her. The engine revved and her body slid a tiny bit with no seatbelt to keep her still, but moments later a pair of arms circled her. Recognising his scent, she realised it was Peter who’d climbed in the back with her, so it must have been Killian driving. Where was Henry? Oh god, would he have to tell people? How could she face any of it?

She couldn’t.

Sabryna whimpered when Peter pulled her against his side, guiding her legs over his lap. His arms tightened and locked her in, her face buried almost in the crook of his armpit in a ruined and fragile mess, so small in comparison. He kept her curled up, hoping to soothe her with an instinctive feel of protection, and that someone else was there to take care of everything, stroking her knotted hair and hushing her. Though it was perhaps a good thing he didn’t breathe.

Just as the car passed the _Leaving Storybrooke_ sign, and Sabryna was still crying just as hard, Peter caught her chin and made her look up. Emptying his very being, his eyes focused and he pulled her mind into his, knowing he was taking a risk with her fragmented state, but gods, he needed her to stop crying. Too weak to even fight and resist the initial pull before she was taken in, Sabryna was overtaken by a numbing silence.

“Good, that’s good,” Peter’s voice was the silkiest of purrs, deep and with a husky edge. “You’re not going to cry anymore, are you, little Firebird?”

“Peter, what are you--,” Killian tried to interject.

“Shh,” the older vampire admonished harshly, top lip curling slightly back over his teeth the gesture and growl in the back of his throat being the real warning. Killian was silent and Peter poured all his attention back into the mortal girl. “Are you?” he repeated, face soft and inviting once again.

“No,” she answered in the typical, dull monotone of absolute compliance.

“Good girl. Now in ten seconds you’ll be released from my influence and you’ll go to sleep for a little while. Understand?” this time the reply he got was a slow nod. “Good.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and counted down silently. Right on cue, Sabryna, completely quietened, slumped, her muscles relaxing fully under Peter’s hands, and the vampire sighed.

“I shouldn’t have left her,” Killian uttered like a confession, the rims of his eyes tainted with liquid red, the grip of his hands so tight on the wheel that indents were starting to form.

“Don’t let yourself go down that path,” Peter reprimanded sharply like the slash of a blade. “Sentiment is weakness, especially for humans.”

* * *

 

“…They’re still prepping all the rooms…”

“…good thing we’re closed tonight…”

“…I don’t like her being out here…”

“…he shouldn’t have glamoured her at all…he knows what it can do…”

“…blood might not be a good idea…”

“…could she know about what happened at that barn outside town?...”

A number of familiar yet unidentifiable voices drummed against her ears like raindrops against a thick windowpane. It was like someone had muffled her ears or that she was listening to a conversation in the next room. For the moment, all in her mind was numb and all she could focus on the distorted sounds swimming in the black vacuum she was in. But then a raw burning sensation mounted in the column of her throat and back of her mouth, worse than the most terrible sore throat she’d ever had. Water, she needed water. She let out a weak groan, muscles stirring.

“She’s awake,” Sabryna recognised Tink’s voice.

Very slowly, Sabryna opened her eyes, still sore and hazed. Catching a glimpse of green beneath her head, she realised foggily that she’d been laid on Peter’s sofa, double checking by sluggishly lifting her gaze, finding the familiar layout of Neverland, though it looked different in normal lighting and practically empty.

Then it all came back to her.

Every fibre sunk like a stone. The consequences, the shame, the pain, she’d done what she had to escape, and now was even more trapped than ever. Things had happened in her past, but she’d never gone this far. People wouldn’t trust her, and she couldn’t blame them, though nothing was quite so terrifying as losing all control over your life. Everything was in pieces now. Gods know how long it would take to piece even two fragments back together.

Tink tiptoed up to the sofa with a glass of water in hand. She crouched down and whispered, “Here, drink this.” Her voice was like delicate wind chimes. She brought the glass to Sabryna’s dry lips and tilted it enough so she could take small sips, moving her spare hand to carefully cup the girl’s head. Inhaling first through her nostrils, Sabryna parted her lips and drank slowly, quickly tasting a hint of lemon in the water. Wanting more, she stretched her neck muscles and Tink tilted the glass a little more until Sabryna had drunk it all down. “Are you sure you shouldn’t go to a hospital?”

Her silence was wiped aside by desperation, “No, no, I can’t go to hospital,” talking burned her throat but she had to make Tink understand. Glancing past Tink’s confused but sympathetic face, she saw Killian and Felix standing by the bar, Killian looking so troubled that he almost seemed human again.

“Why not?” Tink asked soothingly.

“Tink, leave it,” Killian interrupted; “Really, she can’t.”

The petite vampire nodded compliantly, turning her gentle mossy eyes back to Sabryna and stroked her hair. “I’m going to make sure a room is set up for you. Peter said you’ll be staying here a while.” Even after all this time, such haunted eyes were still something Tink hadn’t gotten used to, and she didn’t expect a show of gratitude, knowing the girl probably wasn’t even capable of something like that at the moment. With a gentle smile, she disappeared through the invisible door.

Sabryna wasn’t at all sure what to do now that Tink had gone but knew well enough that things were no longer in her own hands, and on any other day she’d have enough in her to grow anxious as Killian started pacing. Instead it was Felix who came to her next.

“Peter is sorting out documents so officially you can work for us for a little while. He likes you enough so he’ll go pretty easy on you, and the pay isn’t half bad. Probably much better than at that diner,” he said, crouching smoothly in front of her, while searching her eyes for coherence. “You’ll have a room with an en suite of your own; our human staff can get food from the shop across the food, free of charge – since Peter can be rather persuasive. You’ll quickly adapt your sleep cycles so you can work through the night. You’ll be a bartender, mostly for show. It’s always good to show vampires and humans getting along. But most importantly you’ll be safe here, okay?”

Sabryna nodded slowly, the only indication that she could still comprehend the things around her. It was enough for Felix and she was grateful to be left alone again. All she wanted was to go back to sleep. The quiet only lasted a few moments before Peter appeared from the office, a door besides the bar, not camouflaged but discrete. He moved smoothly, entirely unshaken as if nothing had happened at all. Perhaps if you lived long enough nearly everything became ordinary enough to your mind, not to mention your heart. Tink, and even Felix, had approached her with delicacy as if afraid she would shatter before their eyes, not Peter though. In a small way the normalcy made her feel a tiny bit better. For a split second she could pretend she hadn’t crossed the ultimate line.

“Everything’s sorted out. Legally, you work for me now,” he remained stood over her, tall and imposing. “If you insist of not going to a hospital then at the very least you should shower, eat and sleep. And until you can be trusted with your own safety, you will not be left alone. Understand me?”

Sabryna nodded again, her throat still too sore to speak without it burning. The ancient vampire lowered himself to her eye level, reaching right into her with an invisible hand, stilling her completely by just looking into her eyes, and she understood then it wasn’t her hands her life was in anymore, it was in Peter’s hands.

“If I could take all this away for you then I believe I would, but human minds are such fragile things. Glamouring you like that could do far more damage than repair. Getting you to sleep was about as much as I could do. Do you think you can get up?” Peter asked softly, and when she nodded he carefully helped her up before looking to Killian, “You take her.”

Little more than a damaged vessel, Sabryna was silent as Killian swept her into his arms and carried her through the hidden door. Hopeless, she shut her eyes, burying her face in his shoulder, her body jolting slightly with each of his steps. Like Peter, Tink and Felix, he had his own room with an en suite for luxury. Putting Sabryna down in the bathroom, Killian turned on the deluxe shower. She looked around dully, seeing a loo and sink for any human companions, the shower of course and then a very sizable bath with seemingly every lotion and liquid fully stocked and ready for use. But through the veil of her mind’s eye she saw her own bathroom, the mirror with all its water stains, the fresh splashed droplets, all the pills scattered…

Killian turned on her as the water heated up, taking the hem of her shirt in his hands to pull it over her head. Her torso was bare and pale. Despite their years of familiarity, Killian had rarely seen her in such a brazen state of undress and in very different circumstances he would have stopped to admire her. She didn’t flinch or shy away at her exposure but carefully crossed her arms to cover her breasts. The gesture almost seemed out of performed habit than a burst of modesty. Nevertheless to save her the drawn out embarrassment, Killian pulled her out of her trousers, knickers, and shoes and socks in a fleeting moment, before slowing to steadily turn her around. Lifeless in the limbs, Sabryna climbed into the shower and Killian pulled the curtain across behind her; they both knew he’d be able to smell or hear or simply sense if something was amiss. Trying something would be useless.

The hot water cascaded down her back, seeping into her darkening hair. She didn’t move, just stood there with hooded, glassy eyes that gazed at nothing. Eventually she turned and opened mouth so that it filled up with hot water. She swirled it around and spat it down at her feet, hoping to clear her mouth a little. Killian didn’t know whether or not he should try to engage her somehow, provide even the most minute of distractions. The sound of the shower remained the only sound in the room. Still he didn’t dare leave her alone for a second, and the moment it was too much for him, Killian pulled back the shower curtain.

Knees drawn tight to her chest, Sabryna had made a little ball of herself on the shower floor, the water pounding on her head like a rainfall, but he could see the tears running down her face all the same, silently. She raised those tortured eyes slowly, void of any shame or shyness, and then looked like a statue as she stared at him. He suddenly felt so human again.

He flew to her side, kneeling at the side of the tub, his hand cupping her wet cheek. “It’ll be all right,” he promised, a crack in the back of his throat. “I won’t let anything happen to you ever again.” Never in a thousand years would he have thought his absence could have helped lead her to this, of all things. It sombrely crossed his mind that the Sabryna he remembered towards the end of his human life would have made a pedantic remark at his promise. Now there was just silence. She understood him perfectly.

He got her to turn around so her back faced him and washed her hair for her, knowing that moving alone was a herculean effort for her right then. Just as he was rinsing the last of the conditioner from her locks, her shoulders jolted in a violent shudder as she almost coughed up a sob from the pit of her lungs. A sharply pitched whine followed, a truly agonised sound. Like a lost infant wanting their mother, Sabryna started to cry, not in dignified sounds but ones that could only evoke a heart crushing pity from all those who had souls. She made no protests as Killian helped her to her feet and wrapped her in a hot towel before picking her up and carrying her to his private room, more afraid of leaving her by herself than ever. He’d intended to give her a red satin nightdress but there seemed little hope for that; he kept her bundled in the towel and tucked them both into the grand and ornate four-poster bed. Eventually she cried herself into complete exhaustion without the aid of glamouring, by the end of it barely able to remember her own name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and check out the amazing art that's been done for me!


	7. Heartbeat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: dark content and suicidal feelings. Please read with care.

_You whisper in magnetic tones_  
_My thoughts begin to turn to stone_  
_Pools of darkness begin to shimmer black_  
_Secrets surface here at last_  
  
_Here the darkness overtakes me_  
_I try to run but I can't move_  
_Here the stars, they're falling for me_  
_I try to run but I can't hide from you_  
  
_Angel fell down from heaven_  
_Signet of perfection_  
_You moved upon that mountain_  
_Enchanted pride, your weapon (but it's all a lie)_  
  
_Wings glisten as they hover nigh_  
_Disguised to the blinded eye_  
_Cruel and shameless in this underworld_  
_And in sorrow, wandering in circles_

~ Angel Fell, Leah

Sabryna’s phone buzzed again for the fourth time, unanswered. In all fairness she’d been fast asleep for the first three, naturally adapting her sleep cycles round the clock for her masquerade as a bartender. When really, it was so that she could be kept an eye on. She glanced at the device before turning back to her reflection and continued to apply her make-up. Having been frequently stereotyped as an ‘Emo’ or ‘Goth’ during her adolescence, Sabryna had long been relatively comfortable with the styles that subsequently attached themselves with working in a vampire bar. She liked her eyes lined with black and shaded in purples, reds and silvers in particular, and was comfortable in dark colours that hugged her body.

“Aren’t you going to answer that?” Tink asked from the other end of the room, having been left to watch her so that Killian could feed and rest a little more once Sabryna had woken up in the mid-afternoon, not seeming to care about the bleeds and had tried to distract herself with helping the other girl pick out an appropriate outfit.

“Later,” the human replied blankly, blinking on mascara.

Her life was out of her hands, this was the next step of it.

“I’m sure your friends are worried about you,” Tink said softly.

“I don’t actually have that many. Probably even fewer now,” Sabryna said, applying another few strokes of mascara to her already darkened lashes. Content enough with her appearance, she got to her feet and double checked her outfit, examining the length of attire; a black and red patterned corset with a halter neck and snug black jeggings with knee high leather boots. It would do.

Her new rooms were admittedly much nicer than her flat though she doubted they would feel like hers for some time, if ever.

“You mentioned something about a barn when I was coming to,” Sabryna looked around slowly, voice deceptively steady as she perched on the end of her new bed and read the vampire’s face. She was sure that if Tink had still had pumping blood then it might have drained from her face.

“You must have been imagining it,” the petite vampire said a little too quickly, hands perfectly still.

“You and Felix were talking when I was waking up, about glamouring and blood, and then about the barn. And you sounded worried that I, specifically, might know about it,” Sabryna sat still and straight, quelling the thoughts that advised her to relent. “And the most likely reason for that is you know I’m on the police force and relations with vampires aren’t exactly perfect yet.”

Tink’s muscles grew rigid and Sabryna knew she was backing the vampire into a corner, which probably wasn’t the cleverest idea. But consequences didn’t seem to have the same pull on her anymore.

“Did something illegal happen?” the human’s eyes were like hazel coloured stone.

“Nothing happened, Sabryna,” Tink insisted with impeccable earnestness.

_Then why do I know you’re lying?_ “Why mention it at all, then? I know I was in a state but I know what I heard.”

“Do you ever deal with vampires in Storybrooke?” the other was quick to counter.

“Rarely. A few come thinking it’s an easy hunting ground. A few come for a quiet life like the rest of us, but no, not many,” Sabryna half lied.

Inwardly she flinched as Tink’s usually soft, elfin features sharpened in a quiet warning. “Do you kill vampires?”

“Vampires and humans are equal under criminal law. That’s how we treat it. But I’ve never killed anyone, and I don’t intend to start,” Sabryna avowed. “Did anything happen at this barn?”

“No, we just passed through. We’d been travelling for nights and needed a place to rest for daybreak. I’m not sure if that would be considered trespassing,” Tink replied, composure fully restored.

_A better lie, but not good enough._ But she knew Tink wouldn’t give up any more under her suspicions alone. People needed to be confronted with evidence, or other methods, before they confessed. Admitting such a truth could be frightening but it was remarkable how many people would try and wriggle out of trouble until the very end. Experience told her it was the time to concede for good, and it was just as well because holding the cool exterior was utterly exhausting. Then again, so was everything.

As she departed from her room, Tink followed like a shadow. “Should I expect to get bitten much out there?” she looked slightly back over her shoulder.

The petite vampire was unsure about the hardness of Sabryna’s voice and caught mildly off guard by the question. “Well, we feed from our employees if they’re willing,” they usually were, “So if it was something you wouldn’t mind or wanted then I suppose the four of us would feed from you occasionally. Or often, if that was what you’d like. But if any other vampires get too friendly then don’t be scared to kick up a fuss. I imagine Peter would likely deal with them himself.”

Sabryna shrugged, silently interpreting what had been said, several different ways. “If I’m going to be here, I might as well be of some use. You four are fine,” they stepped into the main club which was empty but all set up for the night.

Without the lusty, intoxicated crowds, Sabryna could appreciate the gothic décor, a collision of intricate patterns and naturistic illusions in wonderful chaos. There were already a couple of people behind the extravagant bar and a trio of dancers chatting amongst themselves while the club was still quiet, scantily clad at best. She wondered what it’d be like to have such confidence for herself. Glancing to the side, Sabryna saw it was Felix relaxing back on Peter’s sofa, glorious and powerful. Though, admittedly, not as much as Peter.

“Maybe you should get acquainted with the bar while it’s still quiet. It won’t be long ‘til we open,” Tink said, mustering her brightest smile.

Sabryna appreciated the gesture in the logical side of her mind, believing that Tink was trying her best, but still felt nothing. She could see the uncertainty in the vampire’s features as she left to assume her role as the club’s bouncer. Now alone, Sabryna reasoned that there were a number of eyes to watch her, and help if something went wrong.  She approached the bar, feeling awfully out of place – the awkward and inept new girl. The bartender closest to her was a woman in her mid-thirties with a slim figure, dusty hair and dark eyes. And where Sabryna fearfully expected indifference, the woman’s face brightened in a warm smile that engulfed those hickory orbs. “You must be Sabryna; Peter told us about you. I’m Jenny,” she reached over and offered her hand, rekindling her smile at the younger’s timid shake, “No need to by shy, passerotta.”

Sabryna’s brow furrowed a little, initial suspicions roused, and her mouth nearly quirked. “Are you Italian, by any chance?”

Jenny laughed heartily, “So much for the air of mystery. Is my accent that strong? Jenny is a more western neutral name for--,”

“Ginevra,” Sabryna finished for her.

Jenny paused, nearly chuffed with disbelief, “Peter was right. You are quite something – none of the others could work it out for months. Now what’s your poison, la Bella? As you can see we have quite a range.” Her eyes swept over the stocked shelves.

“Vodka. I’m not too fussy about what with,” Sabryna replied, unsurprisingly eager to fill her system with alcohol.

Jenny winked at her and set about fixing Sabryna her first, of likely many, drink of the night. The older woman picked out a tropical juice with ingredients like oranges and mangos, and the mild, sweet flavour drowned out the sharpness of the vodka. “So, are you from Italy as well?” Jenny asked, as she made Sabryna another drink and customers were beginning to trickle into the club; music was now playing but was still relatively in the background, more of an ambience.

“My family is but I was brought up in England – hence the amalgamation of accents – and came over here when I was about eleven.”

“Hm, I thought something sounded familiar,” Jenny interjected with a knowing grin.

“But my mum’s side is all from Italy. Mostly northern Italy but I think my grandmother lived in Rome and my great, great aunt lived in Naples,” she finished explaining.

“Ah, my family come from Florence,” Jenny said, a beautiful twinkle in her eyes.

“I’ve never been there. I’d love to go one day, though I’ve heard it’s better for art and I’m more of a history person,” Sabryna knew that if things were different, her enthusiasm would have been more than real. It had long become so tiresome how her mind almost functioned in a way of predicting how she _should_ feel rather than how she did. Though at the same time, most feelings seemed all too much at that moment. Following the auto-piloted manual seemed the most effective thing to do.

“It is absolutely beautiful. I’ve missed it every day since,” Jenny confessed, as she started to make herself a drink, momentarily squeezing against the bar to let someone past.

“How long have you been in America?” Sabryna asked.

“Since I was a girl barely in her twenties. I met Peter and he swept me along. I’ve worked for him ever since, leaving just never seemed possible. I worked for his old underground businesses before he settled here.”

“How long has this place even existed?”

“Hmm, about four months, or so. It’s done very well, considering the opposition to vampire rights,” Jenny said, flicking her long dusty hair over her shoulder. “So, what did you do before you came here?”  
“I was with the Storybrooke Sheriff’s Department and had a part time job as a waitress as well,” Sabryna told the older woman and took a sip of her drink.

“You’ve certainly done well for yourself. Do you know how to tend a bar?”

“Somewhat,” Sabryna shrugged. She knew how to raid a bar better than tend one, but she could do the latter well enough.

Jenny then gave her a brief guide to the layout of the bar as the ‘early’ evening people settled in but assured her she wouldn’t need to do anything. Sabryna guessed Peter or Felix might have given her a heads up. She still didn’t have it in her to care, and it saved her the awkwardness of having to explain anything. Nor could she face the idea of serving strangers who may have come to get their rocks off or find a bit of company. Drinking and then sleep, that was all she wanted, now with the constant watch. But if they were all busy…then what if she could just slip away…?

“Here you go, passerotta,” Jenny slid another drink smoothly across the bar.

“Thanks,” Sabryna muttered, startling back to attention.

Suddenly Jenny took hold of her hand, warm and tender, “You’ll make it through this, I promise.”

* * *

 A couple of hours later the club was getting into full swing. Peter was up on his sofa-throne, amorously regal and cold, while Felix had taken over bouncer duty and Tink and Killian had merged into crowds, sifting through the humans to find one they liked. With nothing else to do apart from drink, now that Jenny and the other bartender were rushing to and fro, Sabryna watched the pair of vampires drift from person to person, charm and allure and danger. Occasionally she turned her attention to Peter. Each time he was alone. Simply overseeing everything, completely statuesque. Sabryna reckoned it was too early in the night for anyone to be intoxicated enough to dare approach him.

“Evenin’, sweetheart,” a sloppy, gravelly voice drawled from opposite her. Already unimpressed, Sabryna turned lazily to face the man, whom she immediately and instinctively disliked. “What you doing here tonight?”

“I’m one of the staff. And I’m not working tonight,” she mumbled, just loud enough to be clear over the music, all the while not looking at him.

“You’re European, right? I always liked the accent. And it wasn’t a drink I was after,” Sabryna glanced up in time to see his sleazy grin, unsure if it wasn’t some great parody.

Emboldened by the copious amount of vodka in her system, she met his eyes and leant forward, “It’s a special degenerate type of person that is so lacking in empathy and general awareness that they can’t tell when to back _the fuck_ off. And I’m mostly Italian, actually. Also there is no _European_ accent, you dumb-fuck redneck.” With that, all her energy was depleted, although the sneering scowl lasted. She took another, much needed, drink. She didn’t know what she would have done if he’d persisted but he slunk off with some nasty words under his breath.

“Fuck you, _andare a puttane,_ ” she set her glass down with an audible _clunk_.

Jenny was by her side the next moment, bar cloth in hand, “Impressive. I definitely see why that lot like you.”

Sabryna found she couldn’t care less what others thought of her. The noise, the throng of people, she could practically smell the desire on the air. Her eyes held the glaze of intoxication. Even the pain inside her was dulled. Though sitting at the bar all night wouldn’t do. The first familiar face she picked out in the crowd on the dancefloor was Killian. Locking onto him, Sabryna made her way through the sea of people, buzzing and whirring in that wonderful way. When she got to him, he was in the process of charming a dark haired woman with olive skin, but nonetheless she pinched his sleeve and tugged on it.

“I want to go,” she said as soon as the young vampire turned on her.

Her drunken mind paid little attention as Killian took her through the hidden door to her new room. She stumbled ahead to her dressing table and picked up her phone. Another two messages were listed on the screen, one from Henry, again, and the other from Emma. She typed the same message back to both of them: _Everything’s okay, please don’t worry._

“You should lie down,” Killian said huskily, mentally shaking off the hungered desire that had been building up.

Sabryna bypassed his words, a slight tilt in her head as she turned back. “Are you hungry?”

“It’s fine,” Killian began.

“No, I, I want to,” Sabryna found herself saying, tongue over-running her brain.

Killian ran a hand through his hair. “Sabryna,” he sighed, “you’re drunk and completely vulnerable. And I’m not going to take advantage of you.”  
“I can still make choices, you know that,” she retorted and folded her arms.

“Choices you’ll regret,” taking her hands, Killian sat them both down at the foot of her bed, a distance of several inches kept between them.

But those soulful hazel eyes found him with an unnerving coherence beneath the thin glaze, “Why would I ever regret letting you bite me? I mean, it’s you.”

Killian shook his head softly with a contrite smile. “It’s not exactly a platonic thing, especially like this,” he paused, and studied the way she looked at him. When he found her eyes, he sensed her pulse quicken. It did nothing for his restraint. So much hot blood…

He shook himself, “Though I don’t suppose we see each other in quite the same way anymore. Still, we can’t.”

“Why not though? It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere for ages. And I’m certainly not asking you out,” but she needed a distraction, something else to fill the void. Alcohol and sleep didn’t feel like enough anymore. She almost didn’t care what might happen between them, so long as it was something other than wishing her existence to be over. Something, just _anything_. “Please.” She curled a lock of coppery brown hair behind her ear in anticipation.

Her pulse accelerated at the pensive look that washed over Killian’s features. It wasn’t often she’d had to persuade him because usually they’d been rather like-minded, once upon a time. “Do you trust me?” he asked her finally. Sabryna only replied with a nod. Trust was entirely irrelevant to her. She would have asked him to bite her whether she trusted him or not. It simply didn’t matter anymore. “Then how do you want to do this?”

Leaning back on her hands, Sabryna crawled back up the bed and lowered herself onto her elbows, laying herself bare and vulnerable, a primordial fear already tumbling into her body from the most primal part of her brain. It was thrilling, exhilarating, so far from the dull brink of death in the heart. She hoped every time would be like that. So many things lost their excitement over time.

Nothing in the light changed but still a shadow seemed to descend on Killian’s face. She knew that look all too well by then. The monster in each and every vampire was coming out to play.

His limbs seemed even longer, more graceful as he climbed over her, eyes feasting on the delicate pillar of her throat and honing on that fragile pulse beneath the skin. Sabryna tilted her neck back, finding her legs had parted instead of keeping closed together so Killian could be comfortably settled against her warmth. Swallowing deeply, Sabryna closed her eyes, readying for what was about to happen, head turned slightly to the side. Killian’s nose touched her flesh and she fought so hard not to shudder, yet her heartbeat spoke otherwise and she could feel his smile as he closed in.

His lips swiftly found the sweet point of her pulse. Their cheeks were pressed closely together, keeping Sabryna’s head to the side, the stubble on Killian’s jaw nuzzling against the soft skin of her cheek. Barely able to see straight, Sabryna wrapped her arms under Killian’s arms and gripped his shoulders, tugging all of him closer. The closeness of someone who cared for her was something she couldn’t bear to let go of. If they consumed her then so be it.

His fangs dropped, the razor sharp tips grazing the surface of her skin, making her fight the shudder all the harder. She never thought she’d invite a vampire to her neck, but wondered why she was still holding up a barrier. What was the point if she couldn’t surrender everything?

The weight of Killian’s body came down a little harder and he sank his fangs into her throat. The whimper came hoarsely from the back of her throat, body fidgeting from the primal assault. Part of her brain cried for her to get away, find something to fight with. It filled her muscles with a burning energy, so strong that she had to consciously fight to keep still.

Now holding her so tightly, Killian’s hips rolled up. Sabryna’s eyes flew open, the match having been struck, the flame lit. An ache had created itself between her legs, both soothed and driven mad by the pressure of the vampire’s body. There was an electric trail reaching from her neck to the very base of her spine, terrifying and wonderful. He was pulling her into him, making them one. She could feel him becoming less cold with her stolen warmth. Anchoring herself to the young, wild vampire, she rocked her hips up from the mattress, gasping at the hardness that bore down on her fragile core.

Her eyes fluttered shut again, and for a moment, it was Peter who lurked in her mind’s eye.

As if he could sense her sudden distraction, Killian brought his hand up to palm her breast. Firm but soft, it was a little weightier than he thought it would be. He’d held her a thousand times, knowing her petite body was warm and delicate, but she’d never felt quite so warm, nor quite so breakable. A soft moan caressed his ear as he ran his thumb over the bud of her nipple protruding through the corset material. Killian’s pace had slowed in response to her heart. She could feel her blood being pulled into his mouth, almost like a sensation she couldn’t touch but she was growing too weak to fidget or gently writhe. Her hips had stopped rolling up to meet the sweetly torturing grinding of Killian’s.

A chill rippled over Sabryna’s skin when Killian drew back, his lips smeared a deliciously deep red. “I have to stop now,” he sounded close to irritated, holding the pressure of his hips down. “I should have eaten you weeks ago.”

_But then Peter wouldn’t have been the first vampire to bite me,_ a voice in her mind replied sluggishly. But she felt nearly content. Too weak and intoxicated, her mind was concerned with nothing other than existing, and in that moment there was nothing to make her unhappy or hopeless. A tiny whine left her as the vampire carefully climbed off and she watched with hazy eyes as Killian reached into the drawer of her bedside table and put a bottle of pills on the wood surface. “Take two of these when you wake up. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“Mmhm,” Sabryna mumbled, so close to sleep that she didn’t even care that she was still dressed and in make-up. She’d likely wake sometime in the morning, change into pyjamas then sleep until the late afternoon.

Just before he left, Killian covered her paled body with the blanket throw at the end of her bed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her blood had left him even more riled, hungry for something else.

* * *

 A few nights later, it was the same scene as it had been all the days before. Dressed in a black, figure-hugging sleeveless top, a deep red checkered skirt and silken black tights, and long boots, Sabryna felt adequate enough to show her face without being overwhelmingly wracked with anxious fear.

Jenny had grown quite fond of Sabryna in their short time together, and had stayed at the bar with her over the past couple of nights. While never feeling able to work for long periods at a time, she still managed to take a few orders before reaching her limits and needing to take a few minutes to herself at the edge of the bar, but it was better than nothing.

Each night her lonely gaze had wandered over to Peter’s raised platform. If ever there was someone unknown with him, her heart broke a little more, and it had shattered completely when she’d seen him take one woman into the private rooms. For hours after she’d tortured her own mind in trying to understand why it hurt so much. She’d seen Killian, Felix and Tink all occupying themselves with other humans, leaving her with a deepening pit of hollow forlornness in her chest.

Without distractions, without comfort or solace, Sabryna could feel herself slipping closer to the edge.

She’d watched Killian disappear with an absolutely stunning lady rather early and had needed to take a break from serving, shocked to find herself on the verge of tears. She didn’t have the energy to try and lie to herself; there was a searing desperate desire to be noticed, to be wanted and loved, distracted. A few people had given her looks or tried to initiate a conversation with her but they weren’t the ones she wanted to want her. There’d been no spark, no rush, no connection, however faint or newborn – the effort wouldn’t have been worth it. Had they stopped caring after all? Was she just to fade, faceless, into the background? Just one of the staff? Another vein to bleed? She compelled herself stay relatively sober, knowing that if she became intoxicated she’d be bawling like an infant all over the bar, and probably become far more trouble than she was worth.

A couple of hours later, Sabryna watched Peter entertaining a young and beautiful man about her age. It dawned upon her how _not_ special she really was, one of the million. Peter could get anyone he wanted; she had been no different, just as the young man was no different either, another nightly muse. She wondered if Peter was telling him he was beautiful, that he was rare, if a little unique name had been chosen, leading to her to think if Peter had called anyone else his Firebird before. Her insecure, pessimistic mind told her that _of course_ he had. The man was clearly far more at home in his own skin than someone like her, but she could pick out the odd subtle signal of fear or nervousness. It became harder and harder to look away, not that anyone would notice nor care that she was looking. Every person in the room stared longingly at the godly vampire at some point.

Peter and his chosen for the night stood slowly. Sabryna felt physically sick as she watched them part the dancing crowd, hating herself all the more for the crippling in her chest and the lump in her throat. Gulping thickly, she forced back tears, and knew she’d hit the irrevocable breaking point. Flooded with a sudden surge of adrenaline, she strode round the bar towards the _Neverland_ entrance, conflictingly hurt and relieved that no one would notice her leaving. There were a dozen or so people chatting outside. She took no notice of them as she continued walking briskly around the side of the building, which marked the beginning of an alleyway, large bins and a few rouge vehicles situated around the place. It was where staff might come for a cigarette, or a vampire for a feed.

Well consumed in the darkness, Sabryna could have sworn she heard footsteps echoing her own. Halting abruptly, she spun on her heels, expecting to have to deal with a berating for wandering off on her own. The face her eyes landed on was one she’d never seen before, but unmistakably a vampire’s.

“You okay, kid?” his voice was gruff, one that might be easily trusted.

“Fine,” Sabryna made herself say.

“Really? Because you sure don’t look okay. I can even smell it on you. Do you have somewhere you need to go?” he asked, appearing concerned.

“No, I,” Sabryna paused, “I kind of live here, for the moment.” She clasped her upper arms in a flimsy attempt to protect herself against the occasional chilly breeze.

“Are you someone’s human?” the vampire asked. She knew exactly what he was interested in. Vampires didn’t seem to be interested in asking a human if they were willing to give themselves but in checking they weren’t trespassing on another vampire’s territory. “Cos if you are, I can go get—”

“No, I’m not. So we can cut this short and you can just bite me,” Sabryna said brusquely, her fear of consequence having vanished.

The vampire gave a roguish grin, liking her directness. A quick feed didn’t need to be bothered with charming and seduction. With his inhuman speed, he’d pushed her up against the wall and embedded his fangs in her neck in the blink of an eye. She felt the primal rush but little else, nothing like the times Peter and Killian had bitten her. He wasn’t even holding her. Instead his palms were flat against the wall, about level with her shoulders. Sabryna slumped against the wall, staring past his waves of light hair into the starless sky. He guzzled messily at her throat, spilling blood from the puncture wounds, which wouldn’t coagulate until the feed was over. A fast trail of liquid red glided down her skin, soaking into the fabric of her top. He would hastily try to lick up as much as possible before sinking his fangs back in. It didn’t take long for her knees to grow weak with the speed he was drinking at, and he caught her little body to keep her from crumpling to the ground in a dead heap. Even as her vision started to blur and his hands became more groping, nothing felt remotely close to intimate. He moved his leg between hers to keep her still as the limbs gave way, practically holding her up over his slanted thigh.

“Kid, your heartbeat is really slowing down. We gotta stop,” he murmured thickly, fighting against himself.

Eyes closed, Sabryna rolled her head back, relishing the cool air on her cheeks. “Keep going.”

“Are you sure? You don’t have –”

“Just do it,” she forced out over him, so close to the brink. Just a bit more and she’d be free, her last act exploiting a vampire’s hunger and lack of value for a human life.

“If you say so. It’s your funeral,” then the fangs were back in her neck, sucking down mouthful and mouthful.

Sabryna hazily counted four swallows before a bone-chilling snarl ripped through the air, ricocheting of the alley walls. Suddenly the arms around her were gone and she dropped to the hard ground in that dead heap, as a figure flew at her chosen executioner. Nails harder than diamond tore into the vampire’s chest, digging deep enough to reach the rotten organs before tearing the screaming creature apart, a gory mess left on the floor a moment later. The remaining blood in Sabryna’s veins ran icy cold.

Face spattered in dark blood, Peter turned slowly to face the half-dead mortal. Through heavy lidded eyes, Sabryna searched his features for any sign of emotion over what he’d just done.

Nothing.

Imperious, monstrous, his steps were tauntingly slow, intended to make his prey apprehensive to the brink of madness. Would he finish the job? By the look on his face it wouldn’t surprise her in the slightest. His shoes on the ground were the only sound, each stride a small clap of thunder in her ears. Something had stirred in her; he’d come for her. Abandoned whatever he’d been doing and come for her. Only, it didn’t feel like a rescue.

Her eyes flickered, too weak to widen, as he swooped down, the blood already drying on his skin. “Oh, pretty eyes won’t help you now, little girl,” he growled from the base of his chest.

She didn’t see his arms reach out and snatch her up, and a few short, head-spinning moments later, they were back in the private rooms. It took a second for Sabryna’s vision to settle so she could register that Peter had landed them in his room, not hers. The sheets of the bed were freshly ruffled but there was no other presence in the room. As quickly as he’d taken her, Peter pushed her towards the bed, making her sit like a child in trouble while he stood frighteningly over her, watching her shake like reeds in keeping upright and awake.

“Why didn’t you come to one of us?” he snapped dangerously, features marred with a frightful snarl.

Sabryna couldn’t answer verbally. _Because I didn’t want to. I didn’t feel I could. I’ve been invisible to all of you for days. I couldn’t bring myself to do it._ Insolently, she looked to her side, slightly exposing the ravaged side of her neck that had mostly stopped bleeding.

Peter snatched her jaw and forced her to look at him. “Don’t make me angry,” he warned, top lip lifted by a fraction. “Why not come to Killian? To me? Why is it you so adamantly want to die?”

Sabryna swallowed, eyes fluttering as she tried to keep her focus, “I want peace,” she whispered frailly.

“And do you think your friends want to spend time picking out a coffin and matching outfit for you? What flowers to lay on your grave once they’ve put your carcass in the ground? Suicide does not end the pain, it just passes it on to someone else.”

“Only if you have people who care enough,” she murmured weakly, now blinking slowly.

The grip on her jaw slackened. “You’re idiotic enough to believe that people do not care?”

“Not truly.”

Peter sneered, bending at the hips to bring his head level to hers, “No one can, or will, give you all their attention all the time.”

Sabryna shook her head furiously, wrenching away from Peter’s hand. Her vision swam again, skull pounding, but she had to ignore it. “That’s not what I want,” she forced out over the dizzying nausea. “But I may as well be back in Storybrooke for all it’s worth. It shouldn’t be more lonely here than at home by myself.”

Peter looked at the fresh bite wounds, absentmindedly licking his lips. “No,” he breathed, not taking his eyes off the smears of blood on her neck and chest. “You shouldn’t. Perhaps I should have been more attentive. None of us should have allowed you to fall to this. Look at me. Sabryna, look at me,” keeping his hold relatively gentle, Peter coaxed the girl to meet his eyes, leaning in close. “If I didn’t _care_ enough, why did I kill that parasite? Why didn’t I let him have you? Can’t have anyone taking what’s mine.”

“I’m not yours.” _You would never want me. You’d be an idiot if you did._

Peter arched an eyebrow, eyes dark yet glimmering. “You could be,” he paused, letting the words reach her mind.

“You’ve not even looked at me for days,” the girl stammered, mouth dry as ash.

“That you’ve been aware of,” then his face darkened and he stretched up to his menacing full height. “And if you _ever_ try to harm yourself in any way again, I will take you to a hospital, and I will leave you there.”

That was when the tears welled in Sabryna’s eyes, quickly and many. She bowed her head and hitched up a light sob. Not taking his eyes off her for a second, Peter sat closely next to her before lifting the mortal onto his lap. “Shh, shh,” he cupped the back of her head, burying her face into his neck. “Quiet now, little Firebird. You won’t feel abandoned again.”

“But you don’t really want me,” she sniffled brokenly, screwing her eyes shut and using all her remaining energy to speak without bursting into another sob.

“No one has ever made me do a thing I did not want to do. I thought you trusted me, as you did on the night we met. You know that I wanted you then,” he stopped as she slumped dizzily, “You’re weak, you’re going to need something more than supplements and vitamins,” Peter lifted his wrist to mouth and dropped his fangs.

“No, no,” Sabryna whined, reaching out to grasp Peter’s pale forearm.

“Why not?”

“I swore I’d never drink V,” she sniffed sharply, clearing her voice.

“My blood is thousands of years old, not sold in a cheap vile from a lowlife drug dealer,” Peter hissed. “You let yourself get drained almost to the point of anaemia.”

_That was sort of the point,_ her mind drawled. “It makes no difference. I’m not drinking it.”

Peter huffed, a soft grumble at the back of his throat. “Good to know your stubbornness will endure throughout anything. But if you insist,” he closed his eyes and gave a tiny shudder. “Felix is on his way,” he then told her.

In silence, he rocked her gently, cooing to her as though she were an infant and pleasingly quickly she was quiet and settled in his arms, checking often to ensure she was still conscious. There was little warmth under her skin, stolen and now mingled in the sickening mess out in the alley. Sabryna breathed in and out slowly, mind wandering to Peter’s vague proposal. Instantly, there was a great part of her that wanted it to become a reality. Peter was the most unique being she’d ever encountered. Somehow just his presence could enhance the rest of the world around her, and blanket the icy shards of reality when she couldn’t face them. Even when Killian had fed from her, it had been the image of Peter who had flickered in her mind’s eye, and she’d known that she would have regretted it forever if he hadn’t been the first vampire to bite her, the only one that felt worthy of giving in to. If any other vampire had asked her to be theirs, Sabryna knew she wouldn’t have been able to say yes, knowing that it wiped away all possibility of ever being Peter’s.

But possibility and reality could be so very different. Somewhere in Dr Hopper’s notes were the words ‘Intimacy/commitment issues’.

The door opened without a preceding knock; Felix’s hair was ruffled and there was a tiny smear of blood in the corner of his mouth. Peter chuckled softly at the sight of his beloved progeny, eyes alight and wicked. “Been having a nice night?” he purred sinfully at him.

“I still find it amazing how readily our dinners will walk right into our arms,” Felix’s face then softened in a neutral expression, “What did you need?”

“Have Jenny whip up some food and all the necessary supplements. Someone got a little too frisky. Oh, and there’s quite a mess in the alley, have someone clean it up,” Peter smirked roguishly. The two vampires shared a darkly mischievous grin before Felix nodded obediently and went off to fulfil his request. All was quiet again and Peter tilted Sabryna’s face up. “You’re going to eat, take the vitamins, and then you’re going to take a shower, with me.”

“Why with you?” Sabryna asked, bypassing the shudder through her core.

“Do you think I would trust you alone? You can’t even stand on your own,” Peter retorted without missing a beat. “Besides I need to wash this _filth_ off.”

Mentally shrugging, Sabryna stayed silent. Just the idea of having to stand and cross all the way to Peter’s bathroom made her head spin and ache. But he was right; on her own she could barely even move and just about speak. She was so tired. It should have been over by now, not lingering in some hazy numb limbo. Again she’d failed, and again all was being taken out of her hands. Not that she blamed anyone else.

It didn’t take long for Jenny to arrive with a calm knock on the door. The woman was oddly quiet as she delivered the food and pills. Peter thanked her gently while Sabryna looked over what Jenny had brought for her. She’d made a chicken and lettuce sandwich with two small pieces of mackerel on the side, with a glass of water and little bottles of pills, something Sabryna had become naturally averted to, even though they only contained harmless vitamins. She read the labels through her unsteady vision – B12, B6 and vitamin C.

Peter propped up some of the pillows at the head of the bed and helped Sabryna move to sit up against them, making sure her head could be rested. She stared at the plate of food as he put it carefully in her lap. She wasn’t sure she even had the energy to move her arms to pick up the sandwich. Seeing her struggle, Peter picked up one half of it for her and held it to her lips. The first few bites were small and she chewed them slowly but ate the whole thing, and was a little steadier for it. She was able to hold the other half in her own hands and ate it a little faster before picking apart the mackerel. As she licked her fingers clean, Peter dosed out the pills, which she swallowed obediently with the water.

“Good girl,” he purred, running a finger across her cheek.

The vampire, with such strange kindness, helped the girl into the bathroom and turned on the shower. It reminded her all too much of when Killian had done the same thing, after the first time…

Sabryna was forced to swallow her insecurity about showing her body and undressed, and every time she wobbled Peter would take her arm and steady her. She revealed as little as possible and mostly kept her back turned to him, founding she trusted him enough to catch her. He held her hand as she stepped into the shower and made sure she had a sure grip on the metal before letting go to undress himself. The last thing he needed was to be standing on the outside and hear a loud thud and smell even more blood. Not to mention, he was rather unclean himself. But first he made sure Sabryna could wash her body and hair.

Every second felt like her knees were going to buckle, not just from the blood loss. She knew that with everything that had happened that night, it was wrong of her to feel what she was. _But at least I feel something,_ she muttered silently to herself. She couldn’t begin to understand why Peter was doing this for her, why he would even bother. The vampire was so close. What could stop him from sinking his fangs into her and finishing the job? Or worse, sending her to a hospital and leaving her? As she stared at the lovely tiles ahead of her, her mind’s eye began to weave itself a story.

She could turn around and face him, look upon the face of the dark god, touch his cheek, move in to his arms, and let everything else fall away.

Sabryna shook her head quickly, breathing deeply to fight back the wave of nausea that came with it.

“Are you all right?” Peter’s voice was so soft on her ears, so deep.

“Mmhm,” she answered stiffly, and finished washing the conditioner out of her hair. All the blood on her was washed away, leaving behind on the fang marks on her throat. “Okay, I’m done,” she whispered.

A gasp slipped from her lips as Peter laid his large hands on her waist, carefully so as not to spook her, and turned her around slowly. He kept her at a respectable distance. He’d done an uncountable of unspeakable things, most of which he’d thoroughly enjoyed, but violating the unhappy girl after her ordeals was something that didn’t interest him. He cautiously turned them so that he was under the fall of water, rolling his neck from side to side, stretching out the kinks and flexing the muscles of his shoulders. “Hold my arm,” he said, contented.

Sabryna wrapped her hand around as much of his forearm as she could, and grit her teeth as a chill nibbled at her back. Peter wiped the foul blood from his face, tilting his head back. His bronze tinted hair darkened as it grew wet. With a satisfied sigh, Peter righted his head and turned his piercing gaze to the little human. Saying nothing, Peter’s eyes wandered over every inch of her forlorn face. He could smell her trepidation, feel it. It did nothing for his restraint but he remained outwardly tranquil. Seeing that she was starting to shiver, Peter wound his arms around her naked form and drew her in close. His member pressed into her lower body, already with a hardness to it but neither of them acknowledged it. Sabryna cared more about the arms that had bound her so tightly. Tucked under his chin, Sabryna closed her eyes and let her cheek rest against Peter’s silent chest. Neither of them needed to speak. He just needed to hold her. The human’s arms were pleasingly warm around his lower waist as she clung to him. The water simply fell over them, hot and soothing, and Sabryna didn’t have to think of anything else, except Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please let me know what you thought :)
> 
> Quick update on commissioned works, there are now... 6 pieces (including nsfw) and there are more to be completed/uploaded. I've comprised them under an 'art collection' tag to avoid reblogs coming up multiple times so search for that now instead of 'commission'/'commissioned art' so please go check those out on my tumblr palemoonpersephone.tumblr.com aka Pan's Lost Hound and give those a like.


	8. Sunset and Conquest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for dark and explicit sexual content.   
> Enjoy!

_Bound to your side, I'm trapped in silence_   
_Just a possession_   
_Is it sex or only violence_   
_That feeds your obsession_   
  
_You send me to a broken state_   
_Where I can take the pain just long enough_   
_Then I am numb_   
_Then I just disappear_   
  
_So go on, infect me_   
_Go on and scare me to death_   
_Tell me I asked for it_   
_Tell me I'll never forget_   
_You could give me anything but love_

_stripped down to my naked core_   
_The darkest corners of my mind are yours_   
_That's where you live_   
_That's where you breathe_

_Without any faith_   
_Without any light_   
_Condemn me to live_   
_Condemn me to lie_   
_Inside I am dead_

_S.O.S (Anything but Love),_ Apocalyptica feat. Cristina Scabbia

It was hard for Sabryna to recall when she’d first started laying a pillow by her side in bed when she slept or couldn’t bear to lift a limb. Whether it was to hold onto, rest her head on or simply have against her back, it helped her rest a little easier. What she wasn’t used to was having a real person to sleep next to. She had regarded herself as a rather still sleeper until she’d slept alongside a vampire. The only time she liked to turn and roll over was when she was waking up gradually through the morning, or afternoon, but now didn’t want to risk moving, even in her subconscious, in case it stirred Peter.

The vampire had donned loose black cotton trousers and a dark grey sleeping shirt, which left him looking like a boy just escaping his teenage years. He’d given her the most modest night dress he’d had on hand in his drawers for female partners, but it had hitched up over her thigh when she’d entangled her leg between his. Her head rested in the dip of his shoulder, cheek nuzzled against the slight contour of his pectoral muscle. Part of her deep instincts was still missing the presence of a heartbeat, often startled quietly by its absence. Curled snuggly against his side, Sabryna’s hand had hooked itself on the collar of Peter’s soft top, and clung on the whole time. His arms had locked around her, moulding to the smaller form like a sculpture and keeping her in place.

With no idea of what time it was and accepting that the time for sleep was over, Sabryna’s cloudy eyes flickered open and she gave the smallest wiggle of her feet. Angling her head carefully, she looked up to the ice still face of the vampire, not able to perceive a single fault. Not even when she tried. For the first time, the girl felt comfortable enough to cast her gaze over every inch, every feature without being pinned down by Peter’s virid fiery eyes like a startled doe in the open. Sighing quietly, Sabryna rested her head back against his shoulder, still secure in the cradle of his arms. Now her mind was waking up as well, and she remembered the night before. Realistically, Peter would likely ensure that she wasn’t left alone just so she’d feel safe in the early steps of recovery, but she knew it was inevitable that night after night she’d see the Lord of Neverland disappearing with stranger after stranger. Not her.

Thinking reluctantly aside, Sabryna decided it was time to get up and get on. The human employees were active a few hours before their vampire superiors. Taking a readying breath, the girl worked on dislodging herself from Peter’s steel grip, which proved much harder than it looked. Suddenly jerking, Peter’s eyes flew open, fangs instantly dropped. For a split second Sabryna saw the lethal beast, and could barely breathe as an invisible hand crushed her heart. “Just as a warning,” Peter mumbled huskily, the muscles of his face relaxing, “vampires don’t like to be woken up. We are supposed to be dead during the daytime.”

“Sorry,” Sabryna muttered sheepishly, heart skidding shakily.

Peter chuckled lazily, “Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to work the next couple of nights if you don’t feel strong enough but I still strongly suggest taking some of my blood.”

The human sighed. Admittedly she did still feel terrible in every manner possible, and the idea of a little V to make it all feel better was very tempting. She’d seen what V could do to people, though, and it had never been pretty.

“Just a few drops,” the gravelly edge to his voice caused a certainly unholy reaction in her body. She doubted that there wasn’t anything that Peter couldn’t make sound utterly delectable. “That’s all you’ll need, and you’ll feel so much better.”

Sabryna sighed then nodded, not knowing if she could endure feeling terrible in all senses for very much longer. “Okay. Okay,” she repeated, more to assure herself.

The grin Peter answered with unsettled her. For a split second she feared she’d said the wrong thing and fallen into a trap. Then the vampire pricked his thumb with a fang and offered it to her. Swallowing nervously, Sabryna took the digit between her lips before she could dissuade herself. The taste of blood had never been one she’d particularly enjoyed but at the very least she could stomach it. It must have tasted so different to a vampire. A few drops of Peter’s ancient blood, mixed with her own saliva, were quickly swallowed down before the taste could fester. Her weariness and weakness suddenly melted away, and she could almost feel the fresh blood pumping through her veins, restoring her vibrancy, which although rather limited was greater than she realised.

“Better?” Peter asked with a graceful arch in his eyebrow.

“Mm, thank you,” she whispered, nodding. “Just don’t ever let me have more. I don’t really trust myself.”

Peter ran the back of his finger down her cheek. “Not to worry, Firebird. The effects of vampire blood differ between medical and recreational use. It’s usually only the lowlifes who abuse it as a drug who develop hideous addictions. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get back to sleep before the bleeds start.” His eyes were already closed.

Sabryna returned to her own room, which was a little chilly after being left empty, tiptoeing through the corridors. She dressed in leggings and a burgundy top, brushed her hair and teeth, and made mental notes of a few possible outfits for the night. Staring in the mirror, she sighed heavily. Maybe this time she could do it, pull through and just…manage to live. She had to keep herself busy and distracted, to not let the demons reach even deeper and take over. With that in mind, Sabryna overcame her anxious reluctance to run an errand to the local shop where Peter’s mortal employees could eat for free. She picked up a couple of sandwiches and a few snacks to keep her going until the following night.

Day by day, that’s how she’d have to survive.

* * *

It was easy to lose track of the days. Sabryna guessed around two weeks had gone by, but wasn’t fully sure and didn’t bother to ask. Everything in Neverland was somewhat repetitive yet she never found herself growing bored. She’d sleep through each day, make errands to the shop, work through the nights at the bar, nearly always drinking to intoxication and watching the escapades of others. Peter would still occasionally disappear with humans for a while yet she sometimes caught him watching her. She’d always immediately looked away. While it made her teeter on the brink of being a nervous mess, it did reassure her, soothe her worries to know he was thinking of her. Killian often hung around the bar, chatting to her and Jenny, unless he found a mortal he simply couldn’t resist.

Such was the case on the present night, and Sabryna was still astonished at how effortless it was for Killian, for any vampire, to sweep up any human they chose. It was the one thing humanity shared.

“We won’t see him until tomorrow night,” Jenny grinned as she washed out a pitcher.

“They make it look so easy,” Sabryna added, voice slightly detached.

“Most things are easy for them, _passerotta_ ,” the other remarked lightly.

Sabryna couldn’t agree more. With a small sigh, she looked over to Peter, who had yet to move from his throne. He watched each person in the darkened club as though they were his subjects, mere playthings, a mild smirk playing on his lips.  It still hurt to look at him for long. She longed for more time with him, intimate moments where she could be all he was focused on, valued, wanted. She missed him.

“If only staring at Peter could capture his attention,” drawled the confident voice of Felix.

“All right, Fee?” Jenny asked with a smile as the blonde vampire leaned on the bar opposite to the two humans. “Feel brave enough to stomach a Tru Blood? All for good show, of course.”

Felix took her remark with good humour, flashing his teeth while his eyes glittered mischievously under the wisps of his fringe, before turning to Sabryna. “Whatever the media claims, Tru Blood tastes like shit and don’t believe anyone who tells you otherwise,” he looked the human up and down but in a way that could only flatter. “I’ve heard some rather nice rumours about one particular little morsel. I admit, I’m curious. And you look like you could use the distraction.”

Exhaling with a shy half smile, Sabryna shrugged lightly, seeing the merit of Felix’s implications. As much as it took her aback, being bitten was beyond phenomenal, not just because of the primal rush of dopamine and the flood of endorphins but because it was the chance to surrender entirely; to feel the thrill of handing over your own life to such a powerful creature that could either protect and possess you or tear you apart and send you screaming into oblivion on a mere whim.

“We can dance first, if you prefer,” Felix offered.

Shyness dried her mouth, leaving the nod she gave mute as she walked around from the bar. Joining Felix, the tall vampire held out his hand for her to take. Naturally, she allowed him to take the lead, and the people cleared apart for Felix, much like they would clear for Peter, leaving them enough space to dance without being crowded. His hands were modest but assuring on her waist, enough for her to know he was ever present and that she had his full attention but not so much as to overwhelm her. It surprised her a little at how comfortable she felt with Peter’s most dear progeny, how quickly she trusted him. Before long, she had wrapped her arms around his tall neck, silently asking him to hold her closer.

But as she listened to the music playing, having recognised a more than familiar melody, it was, again, Peter who seized control of her mind and shut out all else.

_I believe in you_

_I'll give up everything just to find you_

_I have to be with you to live to breathe_

_You're taking over me_

_Have you forgotten all I know_

_And all we had?_

_You saw me mourning my love for you_

_And touched my hand_

_I knew you loved me then_

_I believe in you_

_I'll give up everything just to find you_

_I have to be with you to live to breathe_

_You're taking over me_

_I look in the mirror and see your face_

_If I look deep enough_

_So many things inside that are just like you are taking over…_

Sabryna was not sure when she’d closed her eyes but now found herself opening them again, while she absentmindedly hummed the melody and swayed lightly in Felix’s arms.

“Wanna go somewhere else now?” he asked in a low purr.

“Yeah,” Sabryna answered without even stopping to think. Nothing need be thought about.

Felix’s rooms, which she reminded herself that she’d never seen before, were not quite as grand as Peter’s but followed similar styles and patterns, dark yet inviting, ornate yet comfortable. He practically twirled her into the room. Already she was spinning wonderings together about his personal methods of biting, if and how they differed for Peter’s.

His hands wrapped around her. “Would you rather be on top or underneath?”

“U-Underneath,” Sabryna replied, not looking directly at him.

“Don’t be nervous, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you,” but if anything, Felix’s words made her heart beat all the quicker; the reminder of how easily he could, and the iron restraint he’d need not to.

Hands still on her waist, the pale haired vampire backed the girl up until her thighs bumped the edge of the bed. He then hooked his fingers under the hem of her burgundy top, hesitating for a moment to leave a chance to change her mind. He nearly expected a refusal from the timid fear marring her face, rather beautifully in the vampire’s opinion, but Sabryna said nothing and lifted her arms up compliantly as Felix raised the clothing over her head. He dropped it at the end of the bed. Sabryna’s arms had raised to cover her naked breasts. A small smirk curved Felix’s lips as he brushed her upper arms with his palms, applying a growing gentle pressure. He heard her inhale and the hypnotic drumming of her heart became louder in his ears before she slowly allowed him to pry her arms apart and bring them back to her sides. Tracing the underside of her breast with his thumb, Felix growled lightly.

The sound then rose is volume but deepened in pitch, and Felix propelled her back. For a moment those little feet left the ground entirely. Her body tensed even on the soft impact, landing close to the pillows, far further than if she’d simply fallen back. Felix took his time in kneeling over her legs, eyes flickering from hers to the waistband of her leggings. “These too?”

“Mmhm.”

The vampire’s grin was devilish. “Good girl.” He was quick to leave her almost naked, pulling off her boots and socks before sliding the leggings over her curved limbs.

Lowering into a crouching bow, Felix placed a deep kiss to Sabryna’s lower abdomen, just above the line of her purple lace knickers. She’d been waiting for the unfamiliarity to kick in, for her emotions to grasp the fact of how little she knew Felix. They’d hardly ever spoken and she had always thought him the most aloof of the lot. And yet, everything seemed all right with him.

The tip of his nose glided up the length of her belly, inhaling, and occasionally he would place a kiss that would leave the skin tingling. “I can see why Peter is thinking about keeping you,” he murmured, now nuzzling the dip between her breasts. Lifting his hands, he teasingly fondled the ample mounds of smooth and pale flesh, caressing his cheeks with the inner curves.

Already the mortal’s legs had wrapped themselves around Felix’s slim waist, and she silently wished to feel his flesh on hers. Her fingers threaded through his blonde mane, keeping him held to her heart. Fondling, nuzzling, licking, kissing all over her breasts, Felix wound her into a sensitized stupor, and then bit.

The long groan of dark satisfaction merged, sinfully and delightfully, with the human’s whimper, clear as a bell chime. Her following deep inhale pushed the swell of flesh up a little bit further into Felix’s mouth. The vampire kept the little body down, holding her narrow upper ribcage, the pads of his thumbs teasing her nipples as he drank from the flowing subclavian artery. His restraint was flawless after centuries of masterful teaching and practice, making sure not to drink too deeply or fast, both to savour the exquisite sweetness and to bring the mortal no harm.

“ _Beautiful,_ ” came Peter’s purring voice. Immediately his hands were on Sabryna, holding her down to stop the anticipated frantic jolt of shock, Felix’s fangs still buried deep. “Careful, Firebird. Wouldn’t want Felix tearing open a nice big gash, now would we?” his laugh didn’t quite match the sentiment, as if he was already forming the mental image. “She’s delectable, isn’t she?” he growled sensually to his progeny. “Like they were in the old days.”

Felix’s response was a groan of pleasure, his eyes closed in bliss. Now lounging on Sabryna’s other side, Peter watched his beloved progeny while his mind spun memories to the surface. He’d lost count of how many times they’d watched each other drain a sweet little human before brutally fucking like beasts in heat, frenzied on blood. Sometimes they would include the human for that part – occasionally that was what killed them in the end – and sometimes they would simply toss the carcass aside, dead or dying in echoing agony. They had always spared more humans separately; but together, a bloody mortal plaything was some of the greatest fun they could have. Through hooded eyes, he gazed on the unhappy girl’s face that was contorted in the _sweetest_ agony, already straining against his trousers.

The human suddenly gasped as Felix pulled back, mouth red and full with liquid life. She watched, captivated, as the two magnificent creatures leaned towards each other and moulded their mouths together. Not spilling a single drop, Felix passed her blood to Peter, who sipped it from his progeny’s mouth like a sweet wine. Hazel eyes still fixed on them, Sabryna could barely breathe as the two immortals grew more ardent and wild, fighting against each other with a strength that would have shattered any human’s jaw into splinters. But she was acutely aware of Felix’s hands tightening on her, starting to edge towards the kind of vigour he would grasp Peter with.

His fingers clamped down with a sudden rush. “ _Ah!_ ” Sabryna’s body seized hopelessly, with nowhere to escape.

“Easy now, _Fee_ ,” Peter admonished with a wicked grin, murmuring against the other man’s reddened lips. “Don’t want to break our little toy.”

At his words, Sabryna felt intrusive, as if her desired intimacy with the two vampires was not welcome; they only wanted each other and she was nothing more than what Peter had called her, a _toy_. The old ugly head of insecurity reared and began to churn in her gut.

Felix chuckled and loosened his vice-like grip, both vampires having turned their attention to the timid mortal below. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he licked his lips clean, leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I can get carried away sometimes. Actually, so can Peter,” he looked back to his Maker.

“Hmm, don’t you know it,” inhumanly quick, Peter’s hand had fisted in Felix’s hair, yanking the other’s head back to reveal his long neck, fangs bared.

Sabryna could have sworn she saw a flicker of fear cross Felix’s pale eyes; although generally larger, Felix was the weaker of the two, by far. It crossed her mind how old Peter had been when he turned Felix. An invisible electric storm thrummed between them, leaving Sabryna feeling so wrong for being there. Felix was Peter’s special one, not her, but as he should be. A human could never comprehend the bond between Maker and progeny, she understood that well enough. Nevertheless she was unable to stop herself from backing up against the pillows, trying to get out of the way.

Peter’s hand snatched out and gripped her thigh, releasing Felix. “And _where_ do you think you’re going?” he slowly trailed his eyes up until they pierced her.

Inside she quivered with fear, paralyzed on the outside. The hold on her bare thigh grew hard enough to bruise as Peter hauled her down, returning her body to lying flat on its back, breathless. She expected him to give his attention straight back to Felix; instead he continued to glower at her, then raised his eyebrow, expectant of an answer.

“N-Nowhere,” Sabryna whispered, nearly inaudible.

“That’s right,” the emerald eyed vampire growled. “Because I would like you to appreciate how unique you are, in the grand scheme of things. You see, before mainstreaming became the most _dire_ necessity,” he rolled his eyes boredly, “Felix and I would seldom spare a human who was…in your situation.”

Sabryna nearly choked. She turned sharply to Felix, who grinned as maliciously as Peter, and she no longer felt safe. “He’s not lying. Although you are probably the type of human we’d keep around for a little while. Use you a few times. We’ve each owned a few humans to keep for a bit over the years. But now that everyone knows about us, we have to be a little more careful.”

“Oh, sweet little Firebird, your poor heart,” Peter laid his hand on her chest over the pounding organ. “No need to be scared.”

Sabryna gulped, throat twisted and tight. “Is that the only reason why I’m still alive?” she managed to force out. Did he only save her so he could end up killing her himself?

The two vampires shared a dark glance but neither answered directly.

“No need to wonder about that,” Peter told her. “What matters is that you _are_ alive.”

“For how much longer?” she tried again, and her insides shuddered as Felix laughed, like he knew something that she didn’t.

“Well,” Peter feigned uncertainty, “no one really knows that, do they?” Absentmindedly the hand over her heart inched down to caress her left breast, the touch igniting sizzling sparks under her skin. “But if this was a hundred years ago, this wouldn’t have been your last night alive. Most likely.”

Sabryna let the weight of her head drop back into the pillow beneath, no longer feeling very well, the strings holding her steady having been severed by blind fright. She didn’t want to believe that she was only still alive to avoid complication or to satisfy the darkest of desires. She’d felt so safe with Felix barely an hour ago, and surrendered to Peter at her most broken. It seemed all but delusional now, the truth steadily being uncovered.

“Perhaps I should leave you two be,” Felix said calmly. “I don’t think you’re ready to handle both of us yet, sweetheart.” He kissed her lips softly, silently relishing in the way she was frozen with terror and how easy it would have been to initiate his and Peter’s favourite game. “I’ll taste you again,” he winked as he climbed off the bed, and moments later, Peter and Sabryna were alone.

On the click of the door shutting, the human sat up abruptly, drawing her knees close to her chest, smudging a little blood from Felix’s bite that had mostly coalesced. Remaining on his side, Peter lazily looked up at her, unfazed. Lips parted, there was no tenseness in Sabryna’s face as she scoured over every one of the vampire’s features, not sure what she was searching for.

“You’re more afraid of me now,” Peter observed coolly. “Does it surprise you that I’ve killed people?”

“Not for fun,” Sabryna breathed, wrapping her arms around her knees. “Not like that.”

Peter sat up, height easily exceeding hers, lithe body angled towards the human. His top lip curled back, revealing the lowered fangs, while his eyes were overcome with glimmering darkness. “But that’s the best reason to kill. Because it’s _fun_.”

Before Sabryna could breathe or whimper or retreat, a hand had wrapped itself around her throat, severing the air and tossing her down like a ragdoll. The heavy weight of his body crushed her down into Felix’s bed, trapping her on every side, his snarls smothering every sense. Her mouth opened to cry his name, only to be kept silent by his blood-tainted lips consuming her own, the strength bruising and terrifying. Greedily, Peter forced his arms underneath her unclad torso, hands searching, scratching and clenching. Weak muffled whimpers reached his ears. No matter how helpless, Sabryna continued to struggle, hoping it was help her escape the pain of being crushed by the vampire’s arms. Equally energetic, Peter writhed against the human, the movements enough to split the seams all over his clothes as his iron muscles rippled. With a growl of frustrated impatience, he ripped them all from his body.

“Peter, Peter,” Sabryna whispered, struggling for breath. She didn’t know what to do. So much, so fast, she couldn’t think of how to respond, stuck on a crumbling ambivalence. But, oh, he was so beautiful. Limber and toned, he was perfectly blended between the rough masculine and the slender youth. His fervent wildness had ruffled his bronze tinted hair, matching the feral glaze of his eyes.

He grasped her by the neck again, commanding stillness. “This is how you belong, helpless and all mine.”

“Peter, please,” the human pleaded in a whimper.

“ _Shh_ , I’m going to be inside you soon. Tell me you don’t want this. _Tell me_ ,” the fierceness of his tone could have easily made her sob out of nervous energy.

Even as soon as her first night with Peter, Sabryna had both wondered and hoped that things might lead to this. But fantasy and reality so rarely coincided. It seemed his hunger had defied all reason. Even if it was driven by thoughts and memories of all the innocents he’d erased from existence for nothing other than sadistic sport. He might never want her again.

“I do,” she answered. “I do.” _More than anything_. _God help me._

Peter smirked, unclenching his fingers to stroke her abused throat. “Any other answer and you would have been lying.” His eyes then flickered down to her hips, still covered by her knickers. “Those need to go.” And so they were gone.

A bone deep shudder wracked her chest as he pressed himself against her core, rubbing against the little bundle of nerves with complete mastery. The pressure varied but it all was perfect, and she found herself bucking and twisting, her core clenching wetly with need. Each time Peter would chuckle cruelly, purposefully denying her what she wanted but he would break her torment with one burning kiss after the other, torn between devouring and savouring her. In the midst of everything, Sabryna’s mind still whispered of all the other people this ancient god had taken to his bed, fearful that he was comparing her to any one of them, and daring to ask the question that frightened her most – how many had he killed for his bloody games?

“Peter?”

“What is it, pet?” he moaned as the tip of his aching cock nudged her entrance, slick with each other’s arousals.

“Why do you do it? Kill all those people?”

His sinister laugh had a strangely melodic quality to it. Now perfectly still and poised above her, the vampire could feel the throbbing of her pulse through such warm layers of skin. “When you become a part of death, you realise that life is little more than a game, and one we don’t have to play fair by,” his head lowered gracefully, ghosting his lips over her ear. Sabryna’s breath hitched as his arms constricted, and she fought to keep still, barely succeeding with the intoxicating feel of him between her legs. “I do it because I can, because it feels _good_ ,” the words froze her mortal body. She heard his low laugh, felt his mouth curve but couldn’t move. “Because it gets me off. To own them, torture them, hear them scream and beg for their meaningless, _pitiful_ lives.”

His low rumble climbed to a menacing growl, and with no warning his hips reared forward, claiming Sabryna’s body in one stroke. All in one moment, she choked for breath, her heart and all muscles seized, limbs clamping down on the mighty body surrounding her, driven by instinct, struck with trauma from everything Peter had unveiled. He stilled himself mercifully to allow the small body adapt to the carnal invasion.

“Is,” Sabryna stopped to gasp for another breath, “is that what you’ll do to me?”

“No, I don’t think so,” the vampire murmured, holding his upper body up a little on his forearms, smaragdine irises molten and glowing. “Besides, it’s something Felix and I tend to do together, most of the time. And plenty of other things can get me off just fine,” he paused to smirk, as sharp as his fangs. “I’m not going to kill you, little one.” _Not tonight._

Tears broke through with the fluttering of her lashes. She couldn’t resolve what had broken the barrier – the terror, the need, the relief? Peter’s member twitched unexpectedly, making her breath hitch at the back of her throat, inner walls ebbing with raw pleasure. Even laying still inside her, the vampire surpassed any memories of her human lovers at full strength, few though they were.

He rolled his hips, now eliciting a strangled cry from her, which made those predatory features come alive. A human could never truly understand, nor appreciate, how different it was to know a vampire so intimately. No one quite knew why it was so different, so much _better_ , not that they ever complained about it. Each of Peter’s thrusts grew in strength by a tiny fraction, his pace still unhurried. He struck her so perfectly each and every time, not a trace of clumsiness or ineptness.

Sabryna could remember her other partners frequently burying their faces in her neck or the pillow. Peter looked at her, right _through_ her. There was no hope of hiding anything. Her chest contracted at those inescapable eyes. Each cry or moan, each time her body arched or muscles contorted, Peter saw it all, consumed it. All her limbs anchored to the vampire’s body, as if every level of consciousness was afraid of him slipping away.

Time moved in an uncountable blur. It only seemed to break as Peter leaned down to kiss her, needing to arch his long back. She parted her lips to admit him immediately and his knuckles glided tenderly over her flushed cheek, moving more gently in and out of her. Sighing into his kiss, Sabryna allowed her fingers to thread through his russet-brown locks. He was being so gentle with her, she paused to think. For a split second she was able to forget the sadistic monster, and when it came back to her, it was all the more astonishing that he was restraining himself so extensively. With not the courage to ask, she wondered if he was breaking her in slowly. Maybe he meant to lie with her again.

_I doubt it,_ she deflated in all but a moment.

Parting gently, Peter became still, while their bodies throbbed together. Propped on his elbow, he touched her face. “Such fragile creatures you are. Am I the first vampire to fuck you?”

Sabryna assented silently, and gladly.

Peter smirked, a matching curve in his eyebrow. “Perfect.”

The enthralling sound barely reached the human’s ears before he reared back and hooked her knees over his elbows, ramming deep, too quick for her to properly see. Sabryna’s cry pierced the air like a knife-edged bell chime. The arch in her back surely couldn’t have been healthy for her spine, not with her body already close to being bent in half. Peter’s hips bucked up like the crack of a whip. Her body couldn’t be ready for the sensuous onslaught that the vampire dealt her. Each, every nerve was more alive than she’d ever thought possible, and even her best, fondest memories paled pitiably in comparison. Those bright, terrible eyes never released her for a moment, the body moving at a pace that should not have been possible. Sabryna wasn’t quite sure when Peter had hiked her legs right up over his shoulders, only that one word lingered at the back of her throat.

_Mercy._

She saw nothing but him, the dark, wild god above her, all around her. A snarl had lifted his top lip. She could see his long, lethal fangs, and somehow they were less terrifying than his eyes. Nothing felt precious anymore, only carnal. Yet she wouldn’t have sacrificed it for her life. That was wrong to her, Sabryna knew it, but there was nothing to be done that could free her from Peter’s snare, because above it all, she didn’t want to be set free. The tiniest part of her mind still pleaded with her to flee from this monster. But why was belonging to the monster so worth it all? _I want to be his,_ the girl realised as she cried out over and over. Her frail spine was close to its capacity, her core filled, no, _conquered_ beyond all that seemed real.

He could have shattered her, ripped her apart from the inside and she feared that each pound of those granite-boned hips, that she could never comprehend until too late, would be the one to finally snap her in two. In some way, Sabryna had considered herself an odd, but old friend of death. Yet now she saw the face of death – in him – and nothing had made her come quite so alive. The grip on her hips was merciless, but angled so perfectly to receive his sweet torture. In the past Sabryna had been lucky if she’d managed to climax at all, her partners finished before she could reach release, and it frustrated her at how long it took to build. Now, it frightened her at how quickly and easily it was rising. The way Peter had her now, folded and bent and tiny, wasn’t usually how she reached it, though she’d been led on with the mounting bliss only to have it snatched from her enough times to know that she was not far from the edge.

The initial, first contraction of her core swept the rug out from under her, entirely unexpected. It was sharper and deeper, so much more penetrating than any climax she’d known in her life. With each ebbing wave that followed, Sabryna expected the sensuous paradise to gradually fade, for her innermost muscles to quiver into exhaustion. Effortlessly she sang for Peter, and at first he stilled inside her to feel the first few vice-like spasms, moving her quivering legs down from his shoulders, before resuming his pace, fucking her through the mortal barriers and into oblivion.

She must have felt the tenth orgasmic pulse at least, but it was as overpowering as the first. “Peter,” she begged needily, as her nails dug into his muscled shoulders, but not even denting the skin. “ _Ah, god_.”

The fifteenth, perhaps the twentieth? And still nothing subsided. The cries that were ripped from her lungs became tortured sounds. The basest part of her brain, where the desires were rooted to begin with, had her instincts screaming to flee – it was too much, all too much, so certain that she couldn’t hold on any longer to something so inhuman. Her mind could no longer grasp sight, the images never fully reaching beyond the surface of her glazed eyes. In blind impulsion, Sabryna clutched the immortal’s shoulders, while the grip of her thighs would have been enough to cause pain to a human man. Somewhere through everything, she heard Peter’s baritone groan, and almost like a trigger her whole being began to normalise. It was nearly a relief to feel the contractions ebbing away; her eyes cleared and she remembered to breathe again.

Now with her so helplessly quiet, Peter’s avid gaze lingered over his prey. The blistering heat pulsating from her skin caressed him, a tiny sun trying to warm the cold husk of his heart. As her eyes fluttered, both of them completely still, he picked out tiny flecks of gold, black, amber, and green in her irises, waiting. The mortal’s body sacrificed the last of its power in the final throes of ecstasy; she sighed and moaned softly in the afterglow. She wanted to say his name and reach out to him beyond the boundaries of their bodies, because even clutched so tightly in his embrace with their forms joined, the mortal found herself on the edge of an abyss she could not cross.

With a growl in the depth of his chest, Peter dislodged himself from her vice-like core, hushing her as she whined in discomfort. “But you,” Sabryna gasped out, barely audible to her own ears, “you didn’t get to…”

“How sweet you are. Don’t worry yourself,” the vampire soothed. “I’ll have _plenty_ of other chances.” Holding them both together, Peter rolled onto his side, their limbs in a tangle, and an invisible fire still lurked between the human’s legs. He swept the damp hair from Sabryna’s rosy face. Under her skin, blood vessels had broken. She would have a number of bruises in the morning, Peter noted casually to himself.

Utter exhaustion had taken Sabryna completely, not that Peter was surprised. For her first time laying with a vampire the unhappy girl hadn’t handled it badly at all. Humans may have been only in the infancy of evolution, their instincts not as keen as a vampires, but they sensed it – sensed that what was coming may have been too much for them to endure. It would rarely happen all at once, but would take them apart piece by piece, their bodies, minds, hearts and very souls made offerings to their gods of blood, lust and death. And Peter had been given thousands of years to become the master of destruction, both sweet and soul-tearing.

He watched Sabryna ease over onto her back and settle for the night, her left breast pulsing ever so slightly from the heart beneath it, and he allowed himself to look upon her for a little longer than he normally would, if he bothered to look at all.

No, he would not let himself. That road had been shut off to him for an age, by his own willing volition; but looking at that face of whispering familiarity echoed a time when he had walked that path. It was nothing he had time for, nothing he wanted. Mentally shaking himself, the adamant gates welded shut, and Peter turned onto his back as well, leaving his relaxed arm as a cool pillow for Sabryna’s head, which lay turned towards him.

* * *

It was a dream that stirred Sabryna to wake. For once it was not a nightmare or a V induced dream of longing, just a simple dream of memory. She flexed her body in a small testing stretch. Not as bad as she’d feared, and she only winced a little sitting up. The dream had conjured a distorted recollection of a conversation she’d had with Tink. She recalled the real event, when she’d confronted Tink about a possible incident at a barn. Now with it so vivid she wasn’t sure how she could have forgotten it in the first place.

Glancing at Peter, and knowing better than to disturb him, Sabryna sighed quietly, a slump in her shoulders. It bothered her more than she cared to admit that he hadn’t held her at all through the night. Not that she was fool enough to believe that they had a fated connection or that they owed anything to each other, yet something seemed unfair that he was far more special to her. What was she to him? _No, I can’t put myself through this. I don’t think I could bear it_.

It took a little difficulty but she managed to dress herself in her discard clothes and returned to her own room to shower and put on fresh attire. She checked her phone as she ruffled her dripping hair with a towel; nearly half past three. As she dressed and combed her hair, she recited what she was sure of – something had happened at the barn, likely something bad; Tink had known she was a member of Storybrooke’s P.D and had sounded afraid of what she may or may not have known; Tink’s excuse hadn’t been quite up to scratch and she knew something was being kept in the dark; and in spite of all that had happened, she was still a lieutenant.

It was much too early to find Killian to ask a favour, but she couldn’t wait. A very Dr Hopper-like voice in her head commended the diversion from the former night and from Peter altogether. Sabryna found Jenny in the bar with a handful of the other employees, which had a surprisingly human atmosphere during the day. The older woman grinned brightly when she saw Sabryna approaching, immediately offering to fetch her a meal.

“Later, thanks,” Sabryna declined politely. “Jenny, would you be able to do me a huge favour?”

“Si, _passerotta_?”

“Would you be able to take me back to Storybrooke? I was thinking if I’m gonna be here a while then I should have some of my things,” she said, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“I’m sure Peter wouldn’t mind. Sure, okay,” Jenny assented. Sabryna followed her out into the car park, waiting for Jenny to open her door first before slipping into the passenger seat. She recalled the directions to get to the main road that would lead to Storybrooke before falling into silence. “I saw you leave with Felix last night,” Jenny began before her mask had time to mount fully. “Did anything happen?” the older woman looked over, a glint shining in her deeply coloured eyes.

“Well, he, uh, he bit me,” Sabryna looked into her lap.

“Oh, look at you. You don’t have to be shy, _passerotta_ ,” Jenny cooed with a warm smile. “There’s not anything to be ashamed of.”

_Spoken like Dr Hopper._ “But I ended up,” Sabryna paused to swallow, “with Peter.”

“With Peter?” Jenny parroted, and her shock quickly blossomed into awe.

“H-He came in while I was with Felix, and kind of took over,” Sabryna added hastily.

“You don’t need to explain yourself. It’s nothing someone should be judged for. Whether you’ve been with one person or fifty, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Did you and Peter…?” Jenny inclined her head.

“Yeah,” Sabryna gasped with the edge of a smile, as if she was finally admitting it to herself.

Jenny laughed, “Good for you. Really, I mean it. I’ve seen the way you look at him. Was it your first time?”

“With a vampire, yes,” Sabryna nodded. “Turns out the magazines aren’t wrong. I had no idea it could be so different.”

“Madly terrifying but mind-blowing at the same time?” Jenny asked rhetorically. “Si, I remember my first time. And it doesn’t, er,” she paused, searching for the right word, mumbling a couple of words in Italian, “diminish over time.”

“He showed me a few things that I didn’t think were humanly possible,” Sabryna slipped out and then immediately blushed a deep shade of crimson.

“ _Pero_ , that’s part of why it’s so frightening. We get scared that we’ll be overwhelmed by it, yet we still want to go back, every time,” the truth was what made it so striking, yet Sabryna felt a small sense of relief that she was not alone. “It’s at its height if the vampire and human have shared blood. Is that something-“

“Yeah, we have,” at least that explained some things. “I felt like it meant a lot more to me than it did to him,” the girl found herself confessing forlornly.

“Oh, _passerotta_ ,” Jenny sighed. “Try to see it more, um, objectively. It was your first time with a vampire but he has been alive for thousands of years, done everything a thousand times. But it does not mean that you did anything wrong or that anything needs to be changed.”

“Thank, Jenny,” Sabryna murmured, but sincerely, knowing she was right. Not that it stopped anything from hurting.

Her heart juddered as they drove past the ‘ _Welcome to Storybrooke’_ sign. All of sudden she had too much energy to expel. As the houses and buildings started to pass by, she looked out longingly for someone, anyone. It seemed that nothing had changed; why should it have done? The thought of what had been told to other people nearly sent her whirring into a suffocating panic attack. She had no idea of who knew what, of what might have been said during her absence, and then briefly wondered why no one from Storybrooke had ventured to come and find her in Neverland. There had only been a few texts now and then with Emma and Henry; that was it. But she reminded herself that she wasn’t that important.

Again she gave Jenny directions to her flat. It didn’t look like home as Jenny pulled up and she stepped out on the pavement. “Do you want me to wait here?” Jenny inquired.

“No, it’s fine. Come on up,” Sabryna said, fishing her keys out of her pocket, only to remember that she wouldn’t need them.

Her flat was cold and dusty. For a couple of moments, Sabryna surveyed her living room and kitchen, and it suddenly occurred to her that there was likely a lot of rotting food waiting.

She grimaced. “Sorry about the state. Come to think about it, I wasn’t planning to go anywhere when I left. The TV should still be working though.”

Jenny smiled politely and perched herself on the sofa, switching the TV on. Turning her back on the older woman, Sabryna’s polite smile crumbled.

_I tried to die here._

She stepped slowly into the bathroom, the course of that terrible night playing out like an old cinema reel. Rogue pills were still scattered across the floor, stains on the tiles. Quickly, Sabryna weighed up her shampoo and conditioner bottles to decide if they were worth taking with her. Deeming them heavy enough, she gathered them in her arms along with her body wash and shower sponge. She carried them into the bedroom, which had maintained some semblance of normalcy, and dropped them on her bed. Opening the wardrobe, she picked out her favourite tops, skirts and dresses, and laid them out on the bed as well before raiding the drawers for jeans, shorts and underwear. Despite never having travelled anywhere in a long time, she still kept a suitcase. She didn’t bother to neatly fold her clothes, and quickly cramped all her toiletries into a plastic bag before throwing that in as well. She rummaged around for her purse, briefly checking how much cash she had and packed it as well. Rising slowly, Sabryna stepped towards her chest of drawers, pulling at the drawer that had remained untouched.

Guns, bullets, silver chokers and bracelets, UV lasers, Sabryna found herself fondly recalling her prime days on the force. She picked her favourite of the three guns, three packs of silver bullets, two of regular bullets and a UV laser. Better to anticipate the worst than hope for the best. She buried her favourite weapons within the piles of clothes, zipped up the suitcase before hauling it into the living room. Knowing she couldn’t leave her flat in the same state, Sabryna fished out a bin liner and put on her washing up gloves. Taking a breath to hold, she braced herself and pulled open the fridge. She didn’t bother to try and work out what was still good, and tossed one thing after the other into the bin bag while trying not to retch.

“You weren’t expecting to be gone this long?” Jenny piped up.

Sabryna exhaled, nose wrinkled in disgust. “Wasn’t expecting to leave at all, to be honest. It all happened so quickly.”

“What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Sabryna looked over, tying up the bag and taking off the gloves. “I thought Peter told you when I arrived.”

The dusty-haired woman shrugged. “He said that you suffered from, _er, malattie mentali_ but didn’t explain.”

“I, um, I wasn’t safe to be left on my own,” Sabryna answered carefully. “I’ve never been sure of why Peter took me in and has done so much for me. It doesn’t seem to make very much sense. Vampires are rarely known for their sentimentality.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons. Do you need a hand with that?”

“Um, I’ll take this. Would you mind bringing my bag down?”

“ _Si_. Are you not going to lock the door?”

Sabryna looked around indifferently. “Nothing here worth stealing.” It dawned on her that someday, however soon or distant, she would have to leave Neverland behind and return home, to her old life, for good. She’d have to step through her battered door, breathe in the cold and dust, put all her things back in their old places and have to spend time and money into repairing her damages. It was about the bleakest thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs used were S.O.S (Anything but Love) by Apocalyptica feat. Cristina Scabbia and Taking Over Me by Evanescence.


End file.
